Knights of the Old Republic: The Jedi Civil War
by SkySong2
Summary: It's trust, and what it means to be loyal. It's betrayal, and what it takes to be forgiven. It's identity, and what makes us who we are. It's responsibility, both for what we've done, and what we become. It's about war. A KOTOR novelization.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

3,963 BBY

Bastila gasped as she tried to unwrap herself from around the console chair. The depressurization of the bridge had flung everything – and everyone - about. Pieces of three Knights and a Master – her Master – were jammed under seats and in the corners of the walls along with the remains of common Sith soldiers. Panels were ripped loose, and the dim glow of the emergency lights along the floor took over for the broken ceiling lights.

Despite the fresh air being pumped into the bridge, Bastila sill smelled burned flesh, and she felt the ache where her Master used to be. She knew Master Naa-Tai was dead – master Naa-Tai's head had rolled under one of the consoles - but Bastila couldn't stop calling down their severed bond, much in the same way she couldn't stop crying for her father her first few months as an initiate.

The bond was one more pain on top of a world of physical hurts. Her ribs were likely broken, there was a nasty light saber burn down her leg (a blow that nearly took her leg off at the knee), and many similar near-hits from blaster fire stung up her arms and the bridge of her nose.

She had to keep her mind in the present. Master Naa-Tai always said to mind the present, with a bemused smile. Master Naa-Tai was always smiling, even when Darth Revan had taken her head.

Where was Darth Revan?

The deck seemed to pitch and roll beneath Bastila as she got to her feet, and she clutched the console chair to keep her balance. Where was the killer of her Master?

The bridge was quiet except for the woosh of the air ventilators, and distant vibrations of fighting going on elsewhere on the ship. Bastila pushed aside the impulse to find Master Naa-Tai's head (_There is no emotion there is peace there is no death…_) and stumbled across the deck.

Darth Revan, Lord of the Sith, was crumpled against the plating beneath the emergency shutters. Darth Revan was not moving.

_Revan still lives._

At first, Bastila believed she imagined it. That the whisper against her thoughts were childish imaginings. Revan was a thing of myth and legend, first an immortal hero and then an insurmountable monster. How could something that was not-quite-real ever die?

But there Revan laid, little more than a pile of robes and pool of shadow.

_Revan lives._

That time, Bastila felt it. A flickering breath, a pulse in the force. Easy to snuff out, easy to say 'I didn't do it.' Easy to sooth the ache of Naa-Tai's absence.

Revan's death wouldn't stop the war. The Sith war-machine had other leaders; Malak would pick up where Revan left off and the Sith would continue on. The loss of so many of her agemates – to death, to the dark side – meant nothing. Because Revan's death changed nothing.

But it would be _easy_.

Bastila couldn't find her lightsaber (Naa-Tai smiled, _Perhaps we should get you a bungee and attach it to your wrist, Bastila?_) but she didn't need her lightsaber for this. She sat with less grace than she would have liked, and began checking Revan's neck and spine. When it seemed both were intact, Bastila pulled the comatose Sith Lord into her lap, and began to re-bind Revan's life.

It was not her place to pass judgment, and she could feel Revan with the jagged edges of her force-sense (where Naa-Tai no longer was). The taint of the dark side was, frankly, disgusting. But Revan's death wouldn't change anything. Revan's _life_, however…

Bastila could not recall any instance of a living Sith Lord being captured. If Revan could be contained, alive, Revan could provide what was needed to end the war: information.

It wouldn't be until much later, after the remains of the taskforce found them on the bridge, after the arguing, after Bastila had already begun to sift through Revan's mind, did she remember why so few Sith Lords were taken alive.

There were things, once touched, once learned, once awakened, that could never be sent back.


	2. Taris Part 1

**Taris – Part One. Carth.**

3,965 BBY

Carth supposed he was lucky that he'd gotten back before she could clean out his base and flee into the city. He'd returned from a supply run to find his 'guest' crouched over the open footlocker. She quickly turned, one hand going to her hip for a blaster that wasn't there even as Carth pulled out his own blaster – out of reflex – and aimed it at her.

She had yellow eyes.

Carth figured he shouldn't be as startled by that as he was, but he hadn't gotten a very good look at her on the Endar Spire. Just a blur of red, regulation jacket and black braid, and a babble of, "Getinthepodgetinthepod" as she ran past him and into the emergency evacuation pod. Her restraining belts had snapped and she'd taken a nose dive into the console. She spent the rest of the week slipping in and out of consciousness.

Those yellow eyes narrowed at him, even as one of her hands slowly moved into the footlocker to get her blasters.

"Down soldier," Carth switched the safety back on and holstered the blaster, keeping his movements slow and unthreatening. "I'm Carth Onasi, from the Endar Spire. I was with you in the escape pod, remember?"

After a moment, she nodded and relaxed – and stopped trying to get her blasters out. "Yeah. You were on the com too." She gave him a sour look. "I know how to open doors just fine thanks."

"I… see that." He'd had a lock on that footlocker. Perhaps, not the best he could find, but something that'd keep any reasonably curious person out of it. "Look, are you hungry? You've been in and out of it for a week, I couldn't really feed you."

She stared blankly for a moment, before giving him a toothy grin and standing. "Grand, I'm starving."

Carth rearranged the package tucked under his left arm so he could carry it with both hands. "Here. Look, sit and I'll fill you in."

She had yellow eyes. The Sith force-users as a general rule had yellow eyes. But some human crossbreeds had them too. It was rude to bring that up in some circles though. If she were a Sith, she'd lie and say it was the later, either way.

Why would the Jedi request someone who had one of the most obvious marking of a Sith onto the Endar Spire? Something wasn't adding up.

But she took the supplies – food mostly – from his hands without hesitation, set it on the workbench, and began rummaging through it. She turned her back to him, apparently without thought about the fact that he'd had a blaster pointed at her only moments ago.

"So? Fill me in. Where the hell am I anyway?" She pulled out a bag of bread rolls, and offered it to him with a shake. Carth shook his head 'no,' and she ripped it open and popped one in her mouth.

"We crash landed on Taris – you got pretty banged up in the landing, but I was ok. Got us away from the site before the Sith arrived, and got us situated here." It had taken more money than Carth cared to think about – along with a few threats he wished weren't necessary – to convince the landlord to 'rent' out the dilapidated apartment to two off world humans. Unfortunately the end result being that Carth was practically broke.

The woman – he'd forgotten her name, though he was sure he'd seen some of her background and stats on the computer while he guided her to the escape pods – covered her mouth with a hand as she chewed and added, "So I guess I owe you my life then." Swallow. "Thanks."

"Look, I don't leave crew behind on missions. Besides, I'm going to need your help too." Though Carth wondered just how useful this particular member of his crew was. She was obviously no soldier, if her build was any indication. "The Sith have Taris under martial law and a planet-wide quarantine. Their fleet has a blockade set up, so we can't expect any help from the Republic. We've got no one to rely on but ourselves."

"So what else is new?" She shrugged and began chewing on another bread roll – more slowly this time. "You said something about a mission. Is it too much to hope for that it involves getting outa here and pretending this never happened?"

"No." Carth said flatly. "We're going to find Bastila. I'm pretty sure she landed on Taris like we did. The Sith are scouring Taris for her, and we aren't leaving until we find her."

"Bastila? She's the Jedi with the… funky mind-war powers right?"

"Battle Meditation." Carth corrected. He was getting the feeling that this was going to seem much longer than it really was, if only out of frustration.

"Yeah, that. If she's such a powerful Jedi, then shouldn't she be able to take care of herself? I mean, obviously the Sith ain't found her yet or anything or they wouldn't still be looking. Not to mention if the Sith – and they got the upper hand here – ain't found her, what makes you think we will? Not liking those odds Carth."

"From what I've heard, Bastila crashed in the Undercity – the Sith have the Upper City under their thumbs, but they don't have the Lower and Under City under any kind of control except making sure who can come and go between them. The local gangs control the Lower City, and nobody really wants the Under City so it's left alone-"

"Ah, just like home then."

"-that means Bastila's probably hiding down there until she can get out of the Under City to a ship off Taris."

She tilted her head slightly and stared at the bag of bread rolls before tossing it back into the box. "So, gotta get Bastila in order to get outa here. Got it."

"I didn't say-"

"You implied. I owe you, and you ain't gettin' outa here without her, or without help. Don't worry Carth, I got your back. Catch."

Carth caught his own credit card before it hit him in the face. "When did you-"

"You really should keep a closer eye on your pockets. Guess that's what I'm here for."

This time Carth did groan, and ran a hand over his face. "Look, don't do things like that. We need to keep a low profile. The Sith aren't looking for us, we're just a couple of grunts to them and lets keep it that way. The force can do strange things to the mind."

She rolled her eyes. "I know I know. I heard the bedtime stories too. Look, I'm gonna hop in the refresher – smell like something left in the sun in Tantooine for a week – and then we can get on the sorry state of our finances."

"Look, we need to find Bastila-"

"I know that! But can't go rescuing the princess if we can't eat. Woman does not live on carbs alone yanno. An' I'm gonna need some supplies if I'm gonna do what I do best in these situations."

"… do I even want to know what that is?"

She laughed as she disappeared into the bathroom. "Probably not."

0000

They were spending too much time in the Upper Cantina, in Carth's opinion. But at least they weren't dead broke anymore – though after she'd bought a beginner's deck of pazaak he'd argued with her for a good hour about using her gun as collateral for the game.

He still didn't have her name.

Still, 'watching her back' while she cleaned out a few snotty rich kids was not his idea of a good time. Especially since it gave him too much time to watch all the Sith people on their time off. It was actually easier to ignore them when they were patrolling the Upper City. They were all identical. So long as he didn't look too suspicious and didn't stare at them, they didn't notice him and didn't talk much, not even to each other.

But watching them off duty was another thing. Out of the uniforms they had faces. He'd known that, intellectually, but it never got easier to reconcile that they were no longer decent people when they were kicking back and laughing it up. As if terrorizing an entire planet was just part of the day job and was something they could shrug off with the uniform afterward.

And they had the balls to complain about it too. That Taris should be grateful they hadn't made things worse. Traitorous little-

"Cool it soldier boy, unless you're trying to get noticed. You were the one going on about keeping a low profile remember?"

That broke Carth from his revere, and he stared down at her. She'd kicked back her chair so it was balanced on the back legs, and she shuffled her deck as she watched him. Carth forced himself to uncross his arms and loosen his jaw.

"And you're doing a great job of that by robbing blind half the Tarisian nobility. Lets just go."

She grinned and leaned forward until the front legs of her chair hit the floor with a crack.

"Sure sure. Besides, I hear there's this guy in the Lower Cantina that-"

"What is with your obsession with pazaak anyway?" Carth rolled his eyes.

She stopped smiling for a moment. "I never liked being poor."

"Uh…"

"Nevermind." Her smile reasserted itself. "I think I'm seeing a nice shiny wire of hope over there. Give me a sec."

"A what?"

But she was gone, her smaller frame giving her an advantage in squirming through the crowded cantina. It took Carth a few minutes to catch sight of her at all, and damned if he was going to let her get away with deserting or…

Or apparently talking up off-duty Sith personnel.

How she decided that particular Sith was her 'shiny golden wire' or whatever from across the room was beyond Carth, who hadn't even been able to see the man. The Sith leaned over to write something on a paper napkin, which she took with a smile and a brief wave goodbye.

She paused, scanning the room, her brow furrowing, which gave Carth the extra few seconds he needed to catch up with her.

"Do I need to keep you on a leash?" She was one big headache waiting to happen. He could feel it already.

"Maybe. I've been known to slip leashes though. C'mon, lets get outa here. I got good news."

"What good news?"

"We're crashing a party."

0000

"… I can't believe that worked." Carth rubbed his forehead as he stared at all the unconscious Sith on the floor. Most of them were drunk, though some he suspected had fallen victim to the sleeping drought she'd gotten from the doctor.

At first, he hadn't been sure what she'd gotten it for, until the party had started to drag on into the night and she'd told him to not drink anything that came from a bottle.

"Just be glad it did. Catch!"

Carth caught the piece of Sith armor as it came sailing out of one of the bedrooms.

He was pretty sure that door had been locked earlier that evening.

"What exactly are you planning on doing with these?" Carth inspected the armor, doubting he'd pass for a Sith while wearing it. And not sure he wanted to either.

"Convincing the guard that we're a couple of poor bastards going on patrol in the Under City."

Damn. Why hadn't he thought of that?

"Cause you're a soldier, so you think like one. Make sure it fits already so I can make this look like some kind of prank gone wrong and we can get outa here."

Carth was pretty sure he hadn't said anything. But as other bits and pieces of uniform were thrown at him, he pushed the thought aside for later. "Whatever you say beautiful."

Pause. "Beautiful? Now Soldier Boy, don't go sayin' things you don't mean." She'd shut the door – presumably to make sure she fit into one of the uniforms herself – so her voice was muffled.

"It's not like I have anything else to call you by."

"How about my name?"

"You never gave me your name."

"You never asked."

"… well? What is it?"

"Sphene."

0000

**Authors Notes**

Although I'd prefer if Taris wouldn't take so long, it did take up a surprising amount of the game, so I'm using it as a sort of launching pad for the themes I want to develop as the story goes on.

There was a tug-of-war in the Name Game for "her." The name I stuck with, "Sphene," was my first choice, but my second choice popped up when I went through my Fleetwood Mac collection. I stuck with Sphene because it's an unconventional name, and not so pretty, but Rhiannon put up a good fight.


	3. Taris Part 2

**Taris - Part 2. Carth.**

Carth was awake and reaching for his blaster before he fully registered what had disturbed him. Although he couldn't see in the pitch black of his (their) apartment, he could hear Sphene whimpering and tossing across the room.

Yellow eyes. She could be faking the nightmares. She was the last one on the Endar Spire. What'd happened to the soldier who'd been with her? Why was someone with her skills – lockpicking, drugging, and space knew what else she hadn't told him – on the Endar Spire in the first place? Where'd she come from before then? How could they have possibly missed half the Sith fleet hovering on top of the Endar Spire until the Sith had attacked? Why had so many died like that?

Why had the Jedi been so damn insistent that Sphene be on board?

Like she was important somehow.

She groaned. Carth got up, and feeling his way along blindly, went to wake her up.

She had the nightmares even when unconscious. He doubted she'd start faking now, though not much else added up. Anyone would have nightmares after what'd happened on the Endar Spire.

"Hey. Wake up." It took a moment to find her shoulder in the dark, and was smacked in the arm as she flailed briefly.

"Non! Eshu vunde non!"

"Ow! Damnit, calm down. It's me."

"Soldier boy?" She slurred. "Ya _always_ wake someone up in th' middle of th' night like dat?"

"Depends if you keep having nightmares."

"Oh." Pause.

"You ok now?"

"Fine." Pause. "Yanno, turnin' on th' lights will wake me up fine. Save ya from getting' smacked."

"You don't hit that hard."

"I'll go for th' eyes den next time. Ya gonna hover dere or are ya lettin' me get some sleep?"

Carth checked his internal clock – and had to do some adjustments for the local Taris time – then shrugged. "Don't think so. It was your idea to pass as Sith and patrols start early. Rise and shine beautiful."

"Fuck."

0000

"Beautiful. You keep using that word. I don't think it means what you think it means."

0000

"We're lost aren't we?"

"We ain't lost. I know where we're heading."

"Which is?"

"… magnetic north."

"So we're lost."

"We'll be fine!"

Carth groaned, and tried to pinch the bridge of his nose, but the helmet got in the way. "I told you we should've asked for directions."

"Yeah, dressed up like Sith." Sphene snorted, but didn't break the staring contest she was having with the wall.

It turned out, the Under City was a maze of tunnels with nothing to help navigate them. Nothing was labeled, although the periodic 'graffiti' was probably the local version of street signs. Unfortunately, the graffiti Sphene was trying to make sense of was a hodgepodge of alien dialects – most of which Carth didn't recognize and Sphene insisted made little grammatical sense even in the original tongues.

In other words: she wasn't getting very far in figuring out where they were.

"Should've brought a change of clothes too. Should've planned this better."

"Quit your bellyaching and help me figure out what the hell these signs mean. Tell me some of these aren't the local gang symbols. You've been awake on this rock longer than me."

"I am not… gah." Carth caught sight of something in Sphene's helmet in time to grab her and pull her out of the way of a blaster shot that would've taken her head clean off.

Sphene regained her balance and darted around the corner for cover. Carth nearly knocked her over, following. He half expected to get some kind of comment over it, but Sphene kept her peace and pulled a grenade out from under the Sith chestplate instead.

"I stun 'em, you mow 'em down?"

The blaster fire had stopped for a moment, since their targets were currently out of view, so Carth risked a quick look to check on the position and number. "Six of them, three clicks, advancing."

Sphene nodded, pulled the pin, leaned around Carth, and tossed it. Carth felt the explosion in his bones, and the initial sound wave had barely passed as he drew his vibroblade and charged.

Two gangsters down, bleeding from their ears and their legs nearly gone at the knee. To his right, one gangster remained standing only by leaning against the wall as her innards tried to make a hasty escape. The remaining three to his far left, while disoriented, had fared much better.

A single blaster shot from behind him caught the dieing gangster right between the eyes and she dropped like a stone. Without thinking too much about it, Carth adjusted his target – the twi'lik gangster on the far left – to give Sphene a better trajectory at the other two.

And so that she wouldn't 'accidentally' shoot Carth by mistake at the same time.

Not that he thought she had any reason for it so far. Just… to be careful. He'd never actually fought with her before, and wasn't completely sure what to expect of her. Really.

Carth didn't normally go straight for the throat in most fights. Throats were difficult to hit at the best of times, but he also wasn't usually faced with three or so stunned-but-recovering gangsters (one more twi'lik and two rodians). Rodian number one went down fast – his head not _quite_ removed from his shoulders but close enough – but the other had recovered enough to aim its blaster. Carth nearly cut the rodian in half from shoulder to sternum. The twi'lek, who'd recovered enough to pull out a vibroblade of his own dropped as several rounds of blaster fire caught it in the sternum, shoulder, and took off the better portion of his lower face.

Carth finished off the rodian – who was wailing shrilly – with a quick blow to the throat. Laying half open in a hallway, bleeding internally and maybe dieing of infection later (if any of his friends found and tried to save him) was a nasty, slow way to go. Carth had seen it too many times to willingly inflict it on anyone, even someone who'd tried to kill him.

Taking a breath, Carth checked the halls, to make sure there weren't any other thugs looking for easy prey.

He only saw Sphene, leaning around the corner, flat yellow eyes behind the Sith helmet and blaster pointed at him. It was a moment that seemed to drag on forever.

She fired.

Carth expected to have any number of post-death experiences (he was fond of the notion of Elysium himself, and that little river of forgetting) but all he heard was a meaty thud, and it certainly wasn't _his_ body that had hit the floor.

Sphene lowered her blaster. "You ok Soldier Boy?"

"I seem to be in one piece." Carth looked behind himself, not sure what she'd shot and not seeing anything either, although he'd _heard_ something drop. "_What_ was that?"

"Someone with a stealth generator and apparently no idea how to use it." She sniffed, as if offended. "Check your feet."

At first, Carth wasn't sure what she was referring to, but then he saw it. In the scorch marks left by the grenade and the blood pooling on the ground were a series of footprints, and the rodian's blood stopped short of the wall by about four feet and began pooling down the hall in an unnaturally straight manner. Occasionally little arcs of electricity connected the blood to something – a body – that Carth couldn't see.

"Thanks. I owe you."

"Nah. You pulled me out of a downed escape pod and kept an eye on me for a week. But I'd say we're a bit closer to even." Sphene carefully made her way around the bodies and pools of blood on the floor, stepping only where feet had already smeared soot.

He wasn't sure what to make of Sphene's hesitation, or her stiffness, until she crouched and began patting her hands over the invisible corpse. She was trying to be nonchalant, but something about this bothered her. She found, deactivated the stealth generator – revealing another rodian – and quickly stripped it from the corpse and slung it around her own hips.

There was something gruesome about pilfering from the dead, but Carth didn't dwell on it long. "Done? We need to get going. Some of the others -" were these Vulcars or Becks? His money was on Vulcars due to their violent reputation, but he couldn't be sure, "- probably heard the noise and might show up." Had the stealthed one been there the entire time, or arrived because of the noise? Carth wasn't sure, but he didn't like the idea of other ambushes he couldn't see.

She nodded. "We're in gangland territory. Not sure _which-_" she pointed to a symbol that was decorating the shoulders of the dead gangsters, it was one of the symbols among the graffiti on the wall.

"Right." She didn't elaborate, and Carth didn't ask her to. Once he was clear of the mess, he kicked off the uniform boots - no point in leaving a trail of blood for the dead gangsters' friends to follow – and Sphene hopped around and through the mess.

Apparently she wanted to keep her boots on. "You ok Soldier Boy?"

"Fine. Lets get out of here before reinforcements show up."

0000

**Authors Notes**

I _think_ I managed to hit the fine balance on Carth's paranoia/trust issues. Time will tell I suppose.

One of the things that struck me as odd about the Under City was how linear it was. One tunnel, everything was connected to it. Convenient no? Even though Upper Taris was fricken weird. I got lost up there more often than I did in the Under City.

Not that the Taris portion of the game needed to be any _longer_ mind. But still. For a supposedly dangerous place, run by gangsters and (population wise) dominated by non-humans, it was awfully easy to navigate both gamewise and culturally.


	4. Taris Part 3

**Taris - Part 3. Carth.**

Instead of finding their way into the Under City, they'd spent the rest of the day and the better part of the night dodging angry Vulcars, angry Beks, and angry locals all around. They'd eventually holed up in one of the abandoned apartment complexes. Neither of them had expected the Lower City to be so utterly labyrinthe that they wouldn't be able to find their way back to Upper Taris. Carth could only hope their hiding spot wasn't too obvious. It had once been a warehouse for… something. The stacks of abandoned crates provided decent cover, although they had to sleep on the floor.

Much like Upper Taris, once they'd decided to 'settle in' for the night, they'd gravitated as far from each other as they could get without leaving their improvised shelter.

He could hear her shifting her weight, like a signal. Sphene, he'd learned, was good enough at concealing her presence that any noise she made was probably for his benefit. Once she'd gotten a hold of the stealth generator, she'd wasted little time scouting ahead, planting false trails, and occasionally using grenades or time-release mines to distract or lead away groups of roving gangsters.

He wasn't sure what to think about the noise. Maybe she just didn't want him to shoot her on accident, or get him used to thinking he knew where she was, so one day he wouldn't know and then she'd-

"You got a problem with me or something, Onasi?"

"What?" For a moment, Carth thought maybe she really had fallen asleep, and was just tossing like she normally did. He was not so fortunate it seemed.

"You heard me."

"I don't have a problem with you."

"Then why you keep watching me like I'm gonna bite you or something?"

"Look, it's not personal. Go to sleep."

"Like hell it ain't personal, I'm damn well involved. Did I do something? Not do something? I miss out on the secret handshake at the debrief?" If anything, she sounded deeply offended.

"Look, I'm sure you have things you don't talk about. Well this is one of mine, it's not about you."

"You know Onasi, something's occurred to me."

Carth didn't like the sound of that.

"You pretty much save my life, keep an eye on me for a week, and treat me like I'm something poisonous. And I don't know a damn thing about you besides your name and you were on that flying coffin-"

"Are you going somewhere with this?"

"I don't know you. I think it's a little weird since you kept my hide from becoming crispy and yanno, I'm helping you rescue the princess."

"There's really not much to know."

"Then why are you so defensive?"

"Because I'm trying to get some sleep."

"Then give me the short version."

"About _what_? My life?" Why did she care?

"Shit, anything. I've been running around with you for two days, and I feel like I know your stubble better than I know you."

Carth sighed. "Will you stop with the questions after?"

"Promise."

He wasn't sure where to start. Most of the people who mattered knew already (or were dead), and the others never bothered to ask. "Well, I've been a pilot in the Republic army for years-"

"So I should've been calling you 'Flyboy' instead, heh?"

"Are you going to interrupt me all the time too?"

"Em, continue."

"… so I've spent a lot of time fighting in one war or the other. Was involved in the Mandalorian War before all this started. That was the worst one, up until Malak and Revan returned. Not even the Mandalorians were … not even they carpet bombed planets just for the hell of it."

That was more than Carth had wanted to talk about. He'd wanted to keep it short, but it just… came out. He was a pilot, he'd been in wars, case closed. The rest wasn't Sphene's business, and this _wasn't_ about waxing on about how much one could loose in a war. How this enemy was different from the Mandalorians or all the little, petty wars before that because it was-

"You make it sound personal."

"Malak bombed my home planet." More than he wanted to say, more than was her business to know. More than anyone had asked for or that Carth had spoken about in years.

"Oh."

"Yeah. 'Oh.'"

Sphene was silent after that. Carth eventually slept, and dreamed of planets burning.

0000

"Morning, Flyboy. Ready to go, or you wanna sleep in a bit more?"

Sphene was sitting on the floor, back to the wall, while she used the tip of a knife to pick at a sewn-on patch on a jacket. She'd obtained a small glowstick that cast an unobtrusive red light. Carth could've sworn she didn't have the knife earlier, or the jacket, or the glowstick. When did she get those?

"No, no, I'm up." A muscle in Carth's neck protested as he sat up – he'd slept wrong. He leaned back on his hands and watched for a moment. "What are you doing?"

She glanced down at her 'work' then shrugged. "They wouldn't let me in the cantina in a Sith uniform."

She'd been running around while he slept? She'd left him there? She hadn't even woken him up leaving. That stealth generator was going to cause problems. "Why am I not surprised you found the cantina?"

Sphene grinned. "You could say it's my natural habitat. You can sleep in a bit more if you want. I'm gonna be working on this for a bit."

"You only found one?"

"I couldn't find a jacket in your size." She grimaced slightly. "And I'm far from ready to go walking into the cantina with just the jacket. Even I'm not that shameless. I just couldn't… find anything else fast enough by myself."

It was then Carth realized she'd shed most of the Sith uniform, and was wearing only the black bodysuit that went under it. Most of the local non-humans probably wouldn't care if she wandered around with only the jacket over it, but the idea was still disquieting. Or maybe that was just Carth's sense of propriety protesting.

"I know we could use some local help-" for all that she said the cantina was normal for her, it was probably their best bet on finding someone who wouldn't want to shoot them too quickly "- but it'll be faster to just head back to Upper Taris, get our own things, and come back."

"And somehow smuggle them in under the armor." She shook her head. "I could probably get away with gaining a cupsize, but I'm not so sure about you Flyboy. You get too portly you won't fit in the uniform."

Carth sighed. This was taking far too long, but she was right. "Alright. How long do you think this'll take?"

"Shouldn't take more than the morning. But depends on how fast I can find something that'll fit both of us."

"How fast _we_ can do it."

"Eh?"

"I'm going with you."

For a moment, Carth thought Sphene was going to argue – her eyes narrowed and she pressed her lips into a thin line – but she shrugged and nodded. "If you say so Onasi. Lets get moving."

0000

"Look, you don't need to use the stealth generator just to get to the Cantina. How am I supposed to know where you are if we run into the Vulcars or the Beks down here? I might shoot you on accident." Carth felt like an idiot, talking to seemingly empty space in the deserted tunnels and wearing yet another outfit that wasn't his. He'd been forced to roll up the sleeves and the pant legs – a lot – to avoid tripping in them.

Sphene had dragged him around for the better part of the morning, checking out what passed for the 'apartments' in the Lower City until she'd found one that met the right criteria: inhabited, empty, and with clothes that would fit either one of them. It'd taken a surprisingly long time. 'Fit' meant 'not too small,' really. Carth hadn't realized how lucky they (she?) had been to find a Sith uniform in her size. He'd forgotten how small she really was until he'd seen her swimming around in something a good three sizes too big.

"This way I can keep an eye out ahead _without_ alerting our trigger happy friends and detour if we gotta. Which would be a lot easier if you were _quiet_ and not echoing so much. I got enough of killing folk for the week if you don't mind." Her voice came from somewhere forward left and not too far away. Five feet maybe. Carth only had an idea of where she was when her too-large clothes rustled or when she spoke.

Carth hissed between his teeth. She made it sound like an accusation, like it had been _fun_. "I'm not, not some bloodthirsty Sith! I didn't enjoy that!"

"It didn't bother you either." She sounded resentful.

"I got… used to it." He'd gotten so used to it that he hadn't even thought about the fact that he'd killed seven sentients yesterday. Well, not thought much past the fact that the stealth generator Sphene now used had been taken from someone who'd … died.

People died all the time. Many of the people on the Endar Spire died, and that had bothered him. No… it had outraged him that they'd been killed without a chance to fight back.

Sphene was quiet.

"Look," he backtracked mentally to the now seemingly 'safe' topic of her obsession with the stealth generator. "You having that on all the time makes me nervous. I can't tell where you are most of the time, and you're leading the way right now. Just…"

"I got you." She shimmered into view. She smiled a little wryly.

"You're not used to working with others are you?"

"Nope!"

Carth sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, we'll talk about this later. Need to ask you a few things. But we've been standing around too long as it is. Lets just… get going."

Sphene stared at him for a moment. Carth wasn't sure if her expression was pleased, confused, or a bit of both. "'Course."

0000

**Authors Notes**

I was hoping to introduce Mission in this chapter, in order to keep this from becoming the all-singing-all-dancing Carth-and-Sphene show, but in light of keeping a (rough) update-once-a-week schedule, she should be showing up next time.

I didn't expect to take so much time dealing with things that the mechanics of KOTOR made so easy. That is: the bottomless backpack that let you carry lord knows how many different sets of armor and clothes. Heck, you could change outfits right in front of the cantina Bouncer and apparently he wouldn't care. That, and the stealth generator, which was a lot of fun.


	5. Taris Part 4

**Taris - Part 4. Carth.**

The lower cantina couldn't have been any more different from the upper one, and not just because of the decorating. It was fairly typical of most cantinas in layout – the pazaak players huddled over tables in the entrance hall (Sphene stared at those tables with a longing women _usually_ reserved for their husbands or boyfriends, and Carth was glad she hadn't brought her deck), there was a central ring that composed of the bar, and three additional halls that branched out and didn't really go anywhere. The walls were peeling and the light was dim and Carth's body was having a fight between sneezing and coughing from the smoky air.

But what really set it apart from the upper cantina was that he and Sphene were the minority. Carth counted a total of two other humans in the crowd, which meant he and Sphene stood out. Although no one harassed them as Sphene claimed two stools at the bar – her smaller frame made her able to maneuver through the crowd in a way Carth couldn't manage – he still felt out of place and exposed. Like a shaved wookiee at the opera.

"Yo! 'Keep!" Sphene called out as soon as she'd hopped – she literally had to hop – onto a stool. "Get us something hot that ain't been under the heater for an hour!" Carth hadn't eaten since yesterday, and Sphene hadn't eaten much for nearly a week. That she'd immediately gone for the food wasn't surprising.

"_Anything for your companion?_" The twi'lek barkeeper asked as Carth slid onto his own stool.

"You want something Flyboy?" Flyboy.

"Whatever you're having is fine."

At that point, looking at the completely foreign surroundings, that Carth realized that although they really did need help, he had no idea how to get it. He was a pilot, not a spy, and the espionage and urban navigation classes from basic were nearly a decade behind him and not much used. (His instructors had said he was as subtle as a thunderstorm anyway.) Despite the 'neutral ground' of the cantina, there was definitely a criminal undercurrent. He could read that much in the way the groups interacted, and the invisible lines of territory that cut through the crowd, even though he couldn't see any obvious gang insignias.

Sphene elbowed him. "Don't worry so much Flyboy, this is what I'm here for."

"Am I that obvious?"

"Only a lot." She grinned. Her eyes weren't as bright in the cantina light, but some of the sentients around them murmured uneasily and moved away, creating a small, vacant semicircle around their portion of the bar.

Which brought Carth back full circle as to _why_ she'd been on the Endar Spire in the first place. Even the other patrons of the bar noticed something wrong, or they only saw the color of her eyes and thought she was a Sith.

(Which explained how she'd gotten the invitation to that party in the first place. The Sith lackeys had seen her eyes and thought they'd been playing with one of their coworkers, or even a higherup.)

"Something on your mind Onasi?"

The cantina wasn't… really where he had in mind to talk. Too many other people around (although they had a healthy buffer zone). But when would there be time? They didn't have a secure base in the lower city, and Carth didn't like the idea of having yet _another_ argument in the halls where they might be attacked.

Not to mention trying to second guess Sphene's behavior drove him up walls at times. He needed somewhere to start, even if all she said were lies.

"I've thinking about what happened on the Endar Spire." Carth rested his elbows on the counter. "Look, you mind if I ask you something?"

She gave him a look Carth couldn't quite decipher – pleased? – and smiled. "Ask away Flyboy."

"I was just wondering if you could tell me what happened on the Endar Spire from… from your point of view." She went from pleased to disappointed. Carth wasn't sure what she'd _thought_ he'd ask her.

Her smile faded a little and her shoulders slumped. "Well, not much to tell. I wasn't in a position to know. Just woke up, alarms blaring like fuckall oh and by the way we're abandoning ship. You probably know what happened better than me, since I'm pretty sure you were awake for most of it."

"Was that a cue you want me to tell you?"

"Would be nice."

Carth pinched the bridge of his nose. The whole thing frustrated him. "I don't really know either. The Sith just dropped out of hyperspace and it was over too fast. There's no way they should've known our coordinates like that. There aren't any major stations near here."

"Just en route too." Sphene tapped one finger on the bar as she propped her chin in her other hand. "_Too_ fast? You think maybe someone on board-"

"It's crossed my mind. Wouldn't be the first time."

"Shouldn't Jedi-fancy-pants have been able to do something though? I mean, even if she couldn't wing out whoever was selling us out, shouldn't there have been some kinda 'disturbance in the force' or something before the better part of a damn fleet dropped on us?"

Carth shook his head. "She didn't get the time, I don't think. Guess even legendary Jedi powers don't work well against being surprised and outnumbered."

"Or betrayed." The effect her words had must have been immediately apparent (his stomach dropped somewhere below his shoes and what he felt wasn't _quite_ anger but it was close enough) because Sphene leaned back from him and held her hands up. "Not that I'm sayin' that's what happened. Coulda been any number of things. Maybe one of the techies forgot to code the transmissions right or-"

"You don't have to do that." He wasn't quite sure _what_ she was trying to do (make him feel better? Assure him that he hadn't been betrayed?) but he didn't like that she was trying it.

Sphene looked relieved, then shrugged. "If you say so Onasi."

She said that a lot. 'If you say so.' Carth shook his head, trying to throw off the shadow of the Endar Spire. Talking about that wasn't going to get him what he wanted to know. "Nevermind. Look, I've been wondering what you did before you came on the Endar Spire. You're no soldier."

"I'm that obvious?"

"Only a lot."

"Eheh…" There was a pause that Carth recognized as the 'I don't really want to say this' sort of pause. She spread her hands on the bar and didn't look at Carth, instead scanning the cantina staff in as if wondering whether the food would arrive and save her from talking about it. "Em, I used to be a smuggler. I got caught on one of my regular runs. Got lazy I guess. Someone apparently decided I was better off serving my sentence horrifying folk on the Endar Spire instead of sitting in a cell somewhere."

A smuggler. Somehow he wasn't surprised but that still didn't fit the whole picture. But no wonder she took off on her own and was obsessed with pazaak. "You don't know why the Jedi requested you?"

"They did?" She drummed her fingers. "I… didn't know that. I didn't even know they were on the Spire until folks started singing the praises of the princess."

She could be lying. It would make a lot more sense if she were lying. But she just looked confused – verging on annoyed – and Carth began to worry. What would the Jedi want with a (supposed) smugger that they demanded be on board, but didn't bother to say anything to, or do anything with? "They were _very_ insistent you be there. They practically took over the Endar Spire and fought pretty hard to get you on board."

"Look Onasi. I. Don't. Know. I can't tell you nothing about what the Jedi were doing or why – if – they wanted me. They didn't tell me nothing. Nobody told me nothing. All I heard was I was serving out my time repaying the Republic and if I knew…" She stopped there and glared, as if Carth had done or said something insulting.

"If you knew?" That could go any number of ways. If she'd known the Endar Spire would fall? "If you knew what?"

"If I'd known that damn flying coffin was crawling with Jedi I would've taken jail! Jedi don' get involved if things are going _good_ Onasi! When they get involved if yer hide's worth scrap ya hit the deck or ya run like hell!" She snapped, her drawl becoming much more pronounced (not exactly a common accent, but not unheard of on the very edges of the Republic, on that thin strip of territory that separated Known from Unkown Space).

"That's because they're trying to help!" Carth's voice rose a few decibels before he reigned himself in. They had an 'audience' of sorts in the other patrons of the cantina. Though it seemed they were doing a very good job of ignoring the two humans they were trying to avoid. "What, you think they spend their time sitting around, playing pazaak except when there's something to screw up? They saved the Republic-"

"Yeah, good for the Republic too. Real lucky that. Playin' big damn heroes. Blew up a planet doin' it though didn't they? And they popped back up again later to tear down the Republic didn't they?" Her eyes were narrowed, and her shoulders hunched, everything about her angry and resentful.

Why had the Jedi wanted her? She had no love for the Republic, nor apparently for the order that'd wanted to keep her out of jail and within reach. And how had she known about Malachor? Maybe the two were related. "… those records aren't to be released for another hundred years."

"Ya act like the Mandalorians and the Republic were the _only_ folk involved in that or lost someone in it."

"So what was _your_ involvement then?"

"_I_ wasn't." She crossed her arms and leaned back. "Knew a lotta folk who were though. Lotta folk I suddenly never heard from again who were doin' business out there. They all go quiet at once and the Republic don't want no one out there anymore. I ain't stupid Onasi. What are you tryin' to not accuse me of here?"

"It's just extremely suspicious that you were on the Endar Spire at all, let alone that you were the last person on board and survived it." It made sense. The Endar Spire was overrun with Jedi, and Sphene had an obvious dislike of them. She didn't have to be a Sith for that. But then why did the Jedi want her?

"Ya… ya think that I…" What followed was an unintelligible series of huffing as her mouth opened and closed – something like a fish really – but her fury didn't let her get much farther.

"No, I don't. You probably had nothing to do with it. It's not _personal_. I just need to… I hate surprises ok? I need to expect the unexpected."

"Then expect _this_."

Carth expected her to hit him. Her lips were pulled back as if she might hiss like an angry cathar. The cantina lights – dim as they were – flickered and later he'd think he felt a shiver run through the bar beneath his elbows.

But she didn't hit him. She kicked back from the bar – her stool skidding and somehow not tipping over and dropping her on the floor – got off, and left.

It took a moment to process, and despite the fact that she was one of very few humans in the cantina, he lost sight of her immediately. Damn her for being short.

Carth's instincts didn't often offer their two cents, but he'd learned to listen to them because when he ignored them, disasters happened. Battles lost, planets lost, people dead, betrayals… Right then his instincts decided that Sphene disappearing – leaving, letting him find Bastila on his own – was a bad idea and he had to find her and do something. His instincts were on the ball about something; he hadn't made much progress on getting to the Under City on his own. Things had just fallen into place once Sphene woke up.

Did Sith have nightmares like she did? Carth didn't think so.

He had to find her. She was important. How the hell a yellow eyed smuggler that the Jedi had an interest in managed to be important was beyond him. But she was, and he wasn't leaving without her.

So not even five seconds after Sphene disappeared into the crowd, Carth abandoned the bar to find her. He had no idea where she might go, if she really intended on leaving entirely or was just going somewhere to stew and let him squirm in his seat.

She wouldn't leave the cantina yet, Carth (instinct) felt. Even though he couldn't see her among the press of sentients – Carth was muttering 'excuse me' almost on autopilot and just glad that with the crush it was impossible for anyone to be really offended – he knew she was still there.

"_Little girl should not be here_!" For a moment, Carth almost thought the roidan was talking to Sphene. She hardly classified as a 'girl,' but she was little and a lot of sentients often guessed human age on height.

Except the twi'lik girl was definitely not Sphene (unless she turned blue when Carth wasn't looking). Little girl wasn't perhaps the best description for _her_ either. Tall, as most twi'liks were, but only thirteen or fourteen standard years old if her lekku were any indication. "Leave me alone shutta! I don't have time to deal with you right now."

"_Little girl better make time. Should not be here alone. Not so fearless without your wookiee?_"

"Like I need Big Z to take you on!" If Carth had any doubts about her age before, the way she stomped her foot sealed it. She wasn't armed as far as Carth could see, but the five or so rodians who were flanking her had pulled out their blasters although they weren't aiming them at her yet.

As Sphene had said several days ago, when she'd targeted a group of Sith soldiers, Carth saw his 'shiny golden wire.' (Not that he had any better idea of what that _meant_, but somehow it seemed applicable.) It just wasn't in him to let little girls get beat up, even though he needed to give Sphene a downsizing for her behavior. He needed to find Sphene before she got away, but…

The twi'lek girl was about the same age Dustil would be now.

"These guys bothering you?" Carth stood behind the twi'lek girl, crossed his arms, and made sure his vibroblades were very much apparent. He also prayed they wouldn't call his bluff (he was trying to make it look like he knew the twi'lek girl). He was no wookiee, but he wasn't a pushover either and was betting if five rodians were teaming up on one unarmed girl, they weren't looking to pick on anyone who could reasonably fight _back_.

He stifled the reflexive impulse to call her 'kid.'

The blue girl cast him a look over her shoulder, and if she were surprised she didn't show it. She only grinned widely before turning to face the rodians again. "Nah, they were just _leaving_ weren't you guys? What? You think Big Z's the only guy who's got my back? Please." She tossed her lekku over her shoulder. "Besides, you think Gadeon would let you get away with roughing me up?"

"_Beks not strong now. Gadeon weak! Cannot help you find wookiee. Cannot protect little girl. Little girl think we not hear? 'Help help' little girl cry. Wookiee gone. Little girl friend be gone too if values life._"

Great. Even though they weren't wearing any gang symbols Carth could recognize, it was still a 'gang' conflict. But gang conflicts – like a lot of intergalactic conflicts – were mostly about saving face, and looking like the biggest, baddest person with a blaster in the neighborhood. Carth could shame them into a fight if he really wanted to, but finding Bastila (and Sphene before she left the cantina) took precedence.

"Look." Carth held his hands up. "I'm sure your ability to beat up unarmed adolescent girls five to one gets you a lot of points back home-" by which Carth really implied was that the rodians didn't have the guts or the ability to pick on tougher targets, and by the way some of them hissed the point hit home, "-but I'm sure everyone here has better things to do than get kicked out the cantina."

"_Perhaps little girl friend speaks truth. But perhaps little girl friend does not want to die hmm? Perhaps this real reason talk so much._"

"I could almost say the same about you." Carth shrugged.

"Yeah, so back off!" The twi'lek girl squared her shoulders and put her hands on her hips – Carth wasn't sure if she was confident they wouldn't shoot her on the spot for displaying such an obvious target, or if it simply hadn't occurred to her.

"_Little girl lucky. Not interested in little girl. Interested in wookiee. Little girl tell wookiee we wait. He not be so lucky as little girl._"

"What do I look like, a messenger girl? Tell him yourself!"

There were so many things wrong with covering the mouth of an underage twi'lek in a cantina so she'd stop sassing gangsters. But Carth still wanted to do it. "That'll be fine. We'll let him know."

There was a pause that Carth was tempted to call 'awkward,' as it sank in (for the rodians) that the fight they'd worked themselves up for wasn't happening. Then, almost as a single unit, they dispersed back into the crowd.

The twi'lek girl looked around, scanning the crowd briefly before sagging suddenly. "Phew! Oh man, thanks a lot back there. I can't believe you pulled that off!"

"Wait, pulled what off?" As far as Carth could tell, he'd pretty much bluffed his way through the entire thing.

"That bit with the bouncers! Get kicked out of the cantina! Hah!" She twittered breathlessly. "You just got lucky nobody's sure who paid off the bouncers more this week yet!"

… of course the bouncers were bribed. Carth was starting to hate this planet. "Right. I guess. You ok kid?" Even as he spoke, he scanned the crowd. If Sphene had seen that, it was possible she'd taken off in the other direction to avoid him. Maybe. He was sure she was still around, although the feeling was muddled.

"I'm not a kid! I'm fourteen!"

Was it normal for all sentient adolescents to believe they knew everything? "Calm down, it's just a nickname."

"Harumph. Well I'm Mission Vao." She tossed her lekku again, then gave Carth a sheepish look. "Um, I know this is probably a bit much, since you just helped me out right there but-"

"You need help with something else?"

She nodded. "I can pay! Promise! Maybe not all at once but-"

Carth cut her off before she could plead too much (and for too long, running out of time). "You know Lower Taris and the Undercity any?"

Mission lifted her chin. "You're in luck! Nobody knows how to get around either better than me or Big Z! That's what you want? A guide?"

"Right. But what do _you_ need that's got you running around a cantina trying to find anyone with two braincells to rub together?"

Mission looked down and scuffed the concrete with one foot. "Well, y'see… me and Big Z were doing some exploring, and we ran into some gammoreans. Big Z… he told me to run, and he'd be right behind me, but he never showed. He got captured by slavers, they've got him somewhere in the sewers in the undercity. I need help to get him out."

"And you think I'm qualified for it?"

"You got those vibroblades somehow."

"What makes you think they're not mine? Or that I didn't buy them?"

"Cause you're dressed like a bum. Either you're on the run, you stole them, or you beat someone else up for them. I don't care which, but it means you got skills of somekind and I don't have a lot of time! I just… I can't let Big Z get sold! He's my best friend!"

It was oddly convenient, almost too convenient. But Carth didn't have a lot of time either. He needed to get Sphene, a wookiee, and Bastila. … this was starting to become a lot of people. "You have a deal kid. Mission. I'm Carth and you actually got one other person to help if I can find her and get her to calm down before she leaves."

"Women troubles?"

"I guess."

Mission grinned.

"Not like that! We're just working together. Her name's Sphene, human, short, long black braid."

"Braid?"

"Hairstyle. Black hair."

"So, is that her?" Mission pointed over Carth's shoulder.

He turned to look, and there she was, only a few feet away. She'd turned from talking to an aquala who'd been pointing at Carth nearly at the same time, and for a moment they stared at each other.

Sphene shrugged and tossed the aquala a credit before weaving her way through the crowd. "You're looking for me?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing." Carth crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"You weren't at the bar." Sphene ducked her head and looked a little embarrassed. "I shouldn'tve acted like that. It was childish of me."

Carth wasn't sure what to expect, but an immediate apology hadn't been it. (He hadn't expected that she'd turn around and try to find him either.) "Only a lot." He couldn't help but feel this should've been more dramatic, somehow. Maybe more yelling, or more profuse apologizing. But since when had she been what he expected? "I shouldn't have accused you." Because she wasn't a traitor. That was a confirmation from many sources – his instincts, her behavior, what little he did know about the crash.

It was a comfortable weight.

"Well, don't think I've forgiven you, 'cause I haven't."

"_Forgiven-_" He didn't _need_ her forgiveness. But she was grinning. She was teasing him. "Oh that's real cute Sphene. Look, while you were having that fit-"

"It was not a fit, you really insulted me back there."

"- I found some of the 'local help' we need. Mission, this is Sphene."

Carth looked to Mission, who was standing just a little behind him. Considering the mouth she'd given the rodians, he was a little surprised she'd been so quiet. But Mission was staring at Sphene, eyes slightly wide and with a stiff posture – fight or flight.

Mission was staring at Sphene's face. Or more accurately, Sphene's yellow eyes. "… oh." She said, so quietly Carth almost didn't hear her.

He was fairly sure Sphene didn't hear her, and if Sphene noticed Mission staring she didn't let on. "Flyboy! I leave you alone for fifteen minutes and you're already picking up underage twi'leks-"

"Like you were getting anything useful done."

"Don't mind Flyboy, he's got no sense of humor." Sphene rolled her eyes and turned her smile on Mission. "But he's got his uses. So, Blue, what're we paying you with?"

Mission looked back to Carth, and although he wasn't entirely sure what sort of assurance she wanted, he nodded to her. "I need help rescuing a friend of mine from slavers. Fast."

"Slavers?" Sphene's face went blank for a moment. "Well, what're we ditherin' here for? Lets go."

0000

**Author's Notes**

So much for my once-a-week updating schedule, but this turned out to be the longest chapter – not to mention the longest, continual scene – yet.

Remember everyone! Reviews let the writer know what you guys like and don't like!

Till next time!


	6. Taris Part 5

**Taris - Part 5. Mission.**

When Mission had bargained for aid from Carth, she hadn't wagered on two-for-the-price-of-one. In a corner of her mind - where she kept the little thoughts that shamed her and the little petty mean actions she didn't want to remember – she admitted that if she'd known the yellow eyed human was part of the deal, she would've tried getting help from sentients who weren't of the, the… maybe-may-not-be-Sith variety.

Yellow eyes – Sphene, a totally obvious cover name if Mission ever heard one – was actually shorter than Mission, which made being somewhat scared nervous suspicious of the human an odd experience. Yellow eyes were a traditional sign of Sith across any species, even though Sphene didn't act like any Sith Mission had ever seen or heard of. But there was still something just… well, not wrong about her, but not right either. Different.

_(Special. Like heatwaves off the spires of Upper Taris, when Mission caught Sphene with just the corner of her eye.)_

But if Carth wasn't a straight shooting Republic-type

_(Power. Carth has a purpose and conviction, and worse. He's vengeful and if some of the lines on his face are any indication, he has been for a while. The kind of vengeance that didn't care if he survived and that made him dangerous in a way Mission couldn't predict, because it showed up differently in everyone. But so long as they remained clear of whatever would set him off they'd be fine.)_

then Mission was a hutt, and it didn't seem likely he'd deal anyone _too_ shady. Though Carth and Sphene did make an odd pair.

The two humans had to stop and apologize to Izkil (who had too many people order food then leave to find it funny anymore) before getting their food and leaving the cantina with surprising speed. They ate as they walked,

_(Carth had a methodical way of picking apart his food that spoke of long practice. He broke off limbs, stripped the muscle with his teeth, then wrapped the bones with the plastic wrap the food had arrived with until it was gone. Sphene simply shoved whatever fit in, and spit out the bits she couldn't chew afterwards into the container. Which was simply _nasty_. Carth seemed to think so too though he didn't say anything. Neither of them simply dropped their trash and left a trail. Instead the remains were tucked into pockets to be disposed of later.)_

with Mission at point since she was the only one who knew where they were going. Carth flanked her right, Sphene her left.

"So, wookiee rescue from gamorrean slavers. You got any idea how many of these folks there are, and where they've taken your friend?" Sphene licked her fingers clean.

Maintenance hadn't been out for nearly a week once the Sith landed and the lighting was bad in this sector. But it was controlled by the Beks so if anyone overheard, it was no big deal. "There's a pretty decent sized band down in the sewers of the Under City. That's where they got the jump on us and we've heard rumors of people going missing, but we thought it was just because of the rakghouls."

"Rakgouls?" Sphene raised an eyebrow.

"It's a sickness in the Under City." This time Carth spoke up. "It apparently turns people into, well, ghouls."

"Hey now! Who's doing the guiding here?" Mission stuck her tongue out at him, over her shoulder.

Carth smiled a little. For a moment Mission seriously thought he was going to pat her on the head, though he didn't. "Well then, guide on."

"Ahem. Yeah. It's a sickness, turns ya into this lumpy mad thing. Rakghouls are pretty much cannibalistic, and even if you survive encounters with them the plague's pretty infectious. Your best bet is to shoot them from a distance. They're not very smart, but… well, best bet is to just not run into them."

_(Mission watches them from the corners of her eyes when she turns her head. Carth watches Mission too. But he watches Sphene mostly, the curve of her neck and the arc of her hands. But not in a way most women would find flattering. Carth either doesn't like Sphene or doesn't trust her, even though he was determined to find her. Weird. Sphene tries to not notice, but she narrows her eyes and Carth stops looking for a little while. Until he starts doing it again.)_

Carth ticked off on his fingers. "So, gammoreans, cannibalistic diseased mutants, Sith patrols" Carth gave Mission a questioning look, Mission hadn't mentioned Sith so he wasn't sure they were around, she nodded, "anything else down there?"

Mission smiled winningly, "Rabid kath hounds, but otherwise nope!"

"Walk in the park then."

Sphene looked at both of them as if they were crazy. "So we're gonna have to get Carth armed to the teeth or something for this?"

Mission inspected Carth. Sphene could easily sneak about without attracting too much attention.

_(Quiet walk, Mission had to keep checking where Sphene was. Her walk made no vibrations. Her passing stirred no air. Sometimes Mission wasn't sure if she breathed.)_

But Carth… not Carth.

_(Nothing about Carth specifically made him more noticeable, but… Even though he was probably walking lightly for him, Mission could feel the vibrations in the floor, a fine hum in the air. Purpose.)_

"Eheh… wouldn't hurt."

Sphene clicked her teeth and frowned.

"Look, you know where the slavers took your friend? The actual location, not an estimation?" Carth asked.

"I found the place – it's not far from where they attacked me and Big Z," no one ever said gammoreans were _smart_, "but there's too many of them for me to go in by myself." Mission added the last bit defensively. She was young, not _stupid_.

Sphene said, "At least we ain't cold-casing then. I'm sure there's a place down here where we can get explosives, right?"

"You have an idea beautiful?"

_Beautiful_? Mission gave up all pretenses of not-covertly-watching-you-two-really and stared at them over her shoulder.

Carth didn't seem to think the nickname drop was weird, but Sphene rolled her eyes. "No wonder folk get the wrong idea. Anyway, yes, I got an idea. Gonna need some mines though. What kind of entrance-exit setup they got? Security sensors?"

"No sensors that I noticed. They have only two major entrances – the gammoreans can't fit themselves through the smaller tunnels. But… well, Big Z wouldn't fit through them either." Mission had to cut that idea off before it could start. Sphene was small enough, Mission was small enough though it'd been a tight squeeze. Carth wouldn't fit though, and Zaalbar definitely wouldn't, even if they shaved him first.

"The sewers one of the standard models? Tell me it's a OZ-Zero-Two."

"Um. I don't know." Some guide she was. But Mission didn't remember much of her life before Taris. The sewers had always been 'the sewers.' How they matched up against other sewers, or if they were even based on a common layout had never mattered before.

Sphene sighed. "Then maybe not too many mines. I'm pretty sure there's someone we can get explosives from down here, eh Blue?

"Not too many people." Mission admitted. Most of the arms dealing went through the gangs, who had their own supply chains. Every so often, an enterprising individual tried to run an arms shop on their own. They didn't usually live too long. "Most of them only sell to their gangs though. But don't worry! I got an in with the Beks, I can totally get you hooked up there."

Carth jerked slightly

_(he was watching Sphene again)_

and this time fixed Mission with a sharp look. Straight-shooting republic type all the way.

_(Republic-type. Obviously offworlder trying to get to the undercity to look for something. Not too long after that battle in orbit. Mission was almost embarrassed she hadn't figured it out sooner. But Sphene didn't fit the picture.)_

"Relax, they aren't going to shoot you." Mission held her hands up and smiled, as if deliberately mistaking the look he gave her. "Promise. Me and Gaddon go back a ways."

"Gaddon." Carth paused. "_That_ Gaddon?"

"Wait, what Gaddon?" Sphene interjected.

"The leader of the Hidden Beks?" Carth continued.

"What, you didn't think I was talking about a repairman did ya? Keep up Carth!"

"He sometimes has problems doing that." Sphene grinned.

"Why do I put up with you again?" Carth snorted and did a poor job of hiding a smile.

"Apparently cause I'm good looking."

"You're never going to leave that alone are you?"

_(They gave the feeling of something new and not tested and easy to break.)_

"You keep using it."

"If it bothers you that much I can stop."

"I kinda like it, actually."

"Are you guys done flirting now?" Mission wasn't sure if this back and fourth was normal, or their way of making up (without the kissing cause ewwww), but Carth snapped to attention

_(As if he'd suddenly remembered something important.)_

and Sphene just grinned shamelessly.

0000

"Look, I'm not saying you can't take care of yourself." Carth said with what Mission recognized as the calming-the-inexplicably-angry-woman voice. "I'm saying that if it comes to a straight up fight, I'll be able to-"

"To what? 'Handle it'? Damnit Carth, I'm going to have to set up those mines in the first place. I'd _prefer_ to be able to set up a sight-release instead of sensitivity to catch as many of them as possible, which means _I've_ got to be there to set the fuses."

The Bek's personal cantina was largely empty, making it a good place to hash out the details of Sphene's plan. Or rather, for Carth and Sphene to have long arguments about said plan.

The plan was pretty simple. Make a minefield of one of the entrances, lure gammoreans to it, watch them blow themselves up at the knee. Or maybe gas them into a stupor. Sphene went back and fourth on whether coating a hall in bits of sentient intestine was better than letting slavers walk loose with …well, Mission hadn't understood some of the words Sphene used,

_(Carth looked both horrified and a bit sick, and his hands twitched as if to cover Mission's ears)_

but the description must have been nasty as, as something that's pretty gross. Carth had eventually convinced Sphene that dead slavers wouldn't be enslaving anyone else. But that didn't mean the 'planning' stopped there.

Sphene was dead set with handling the mines herself, something Carth apparently had a problem with. "Besides, if you go with Mission and things go Sith shaped she'll need the extra muscle more than I will."

_(Mission's disgruntled, "Hey! I've been looking after myself for years, thanks!" went unnoticed.)_

"You make it sound like I've never dealt with explosives before." Carth matched Sphene's scowl and crossed his arms.

"And just how good are ya at making yerself get lost and not found huh Onasi? The mines are supposed to handle the gammoreans, if there's any left that you need to fight-"

"I _think_ I can manage to avoid gammoreans for a little while." That was a lot of sarcasm. "But Mission's going to need better help than I can give her getting out of there if this goes bad."

"And Carth's gonna have a harder time getting in unnoticed." Mission felt the need to point out. Sphene gave her a not-happy look, but Mission stood her ground. This had to end or they'd go at it for-fricken-ever. "It's true. He's too big to fit into some of the smaller passages, but _you_ will. The Gammoreans have two main entrances – but that's cause those two are the only ones they can actually fit in. We'll have better odds getting to Big Z unnoticed while Carth keeps the porkers off our backs. Once we got him, Big Z's got enough muscle that between the three of us we can make with the getting out."

"_Fine_. We'll do it your way Leu-" Sphene cut herself short and just glowered. Carth went rigid.

Mission spoke up before disaster could rear its head (again). "Great! So we're blowing stuff up. Lex sells the good stuff this way." Mission got up and tugged Sphene along by her elbow.

Her conscience nagged her briefly, about how she should let them know that the alliance pod that'd crashed the previous week had been stripped clean, and what they were looking for probably wasn't there anymore. But saving Zaalbar from being enslaved was more important.

0000

**Author's Notes**

Writing from Mission's POV was… well, interesting. I wanted to keep her voice distinct from Carth, which meant a little more stream of consciousness and a bit more, err, buffy-speak. Which turned out to be harder than I thought.

At first I thought about continuing through Carth's POV. Mission is hard to write, but she brings to the table certain observations that wouldn't be available otherwise.

And for the curious, a rough sketch of Sphene: .com/art/Draft-153189538

(Yep, that's why this chapter took so long, the author got a tablet. Toooooys.)


	7. Taris Part 6

**Taris – Part 6. Mission**

"Hey, Mission. How'd you manage to hook arm with a wookie down here anyway? Not that I'm juding, but it seems like an odd team up."

Mission expected that question – or some variant of it – to come from Carth, he-of-thinly-veiled-paranoia. But Carth only looked up briefly at the real asker of the question (Sphene) before going back to cleaning his blaster.

(_Carth cleaned his weapons in a manner priests usually cared for holy relics. Well, holy relics that put holes in people who didn't agree with him. He didn't seem to realize he did it either._)

Sphene was fussing with the mines she'd bought from Lex, so that Carth would be able to push a little button and choose when they'd go off. (Something that turned out to be a lot more complicated than Mission would've suspected.) But she still asked, and in the unspoken language of spacers, bounty hunters, and smugglers everywhere, that was a big deal.

"Big Z… well, he's kinda like family, you know? I was just minding my business down by Carrion Cross and there are these Vulcars picking on this poor little wookiee-"

"Hey now, I've met wookiees before and there's no 'poor little' about them." Sphene smiled, but didn't look up from her work.

Mission stuck her tongue out. "Hey! Big Z was all alone! He obviously didn't know anything about being in a city. He was lost, and upset, and those… those Vulcar shutta's were trying to goad him into a fight!"

"Don't think I don't know what that word means missy." Carth clearly disapproved. Not that Mission cared. It wasn't like he was her _dad_ or anything.

Still. Best not to do it again. "Ehehe."

"So? What happened?" Sphene wanted to know.

Sphene wanted to know. What few people realized about spacers was that questions were universally regarded as a sign of interest. Small talk did not involve questions. Small talk involved a sort of messed up commentary about stuff that had nothing to do with each other and seemed not-right-in-the-brain to people who weren't spacers.

Interest generally involved jobs. People did not usually go asking about how you met your friends unless they _were_ your friends. Or wanted to be.

So Sphene was interested. In Mission. Nobody had ever been interested in Mission before (beyond the occasional creep who was into underage girls).

"Well. Um, I did something kinda dumb. I just lost my head yanno? I yelled, 'Leave him alone ya core slimes' and charged them." Totally not one of her more subtle moments. 'Well, one of them smacked me so hard I nearly passed out and Big Z went Wookiee-Rage on them. He grabbed one of them and had him off the ground by the throat and everything! Thought he was gonna rip their arms off and beat them with the pieces."

"He didn't?"

"Nah. The other two ran off and the one he grabbed fainted. Not that I blame him. Seeing an angry wookiee up close ain't pretty. Or maybe it was Big Z's breath. But we've been inseparable ever since. I can't… I can't leave him to those slavers."

"He's your wingman." Sphene's voice was surprisingly warm, her approval clear.

"Yeah." Mission nodded. She could take care of herself. But it got a lot harder when she had to go alone. She was the 'brains' of the common brawny-and-smart-one team up. So she wanted to get him _now_. Now now now because who knew how long she had until Zaalbar was gone? Except she understood getting herself killed in the process wouldn't do Zaalbar any good. So these little preparations

_(Sphene arguing with Lex over prices and using Carth as a packhorse for more mines than she could carry and Carth making sure his vibroblades weren't going to stick and his blaster wasn't going to jam while Sphene made sure the mines would go off at the right time.)_

were necessary.

"Don't worry. We'll get him back." Mission didn't expect Carth (who was being quiet) to make that assurance. But there it was. Right. Carth was a republic type. They were big on not leaving people behind.

(_Sphene jerked her head slightly and looked at Carth, as if noticing something for the first time._)

"Thanks Carth. I'll… uh, I'll make this up to you guys." Because until someone _said_ they were looking for republic soldiers in the undercity, Mission wasn't saying anything. Especially if her assumption was wrong.

And Sphene had given her something to think about. Something beyond the immediate need of rescue-Zaalbar. Sphene had flagged her interest. Ball in Mission's court.

0000

When Carth and Sphene weren't arguing they worked surprisingly well together. How much either of them noticed this, Mission couldn't say. But when time came to get moving and get things done they just… clicked together, and Mission got the feeling that whatever happened to create that affected her too. She'd seen enough gang warfare and botched muggings and petty crime to know that a sudden bout of coordination was unnatural, especially with the sketchy amount of planning that had gone into it.

But once the mines were ready

(_a grand total of ten. Six frag mines, one lesser plasma mine, one concussion mine, a greater gas mine, and a greater cyroban mine. The last were for 'just in case.' To give Carth time to run if he needed and preferably would be retrieved once Zaalbar was free._)

they were packed up (Mission wound up carrying most of them by virtue of having the most pockets) and the group moved out. Being loaded with the explosives as she was, Mission found Carth nearly glued to her side, while Sphene stealthed ahead of them to make sure they weren't walking into a pack of Vulcar while Mission gave her directions from the back.

It should have been an awkward arrangement. But they quickly worked out a series of hand signals and signal-noises - with no small help from Carth, who admitted the system he suggested was common in the military, with some adjustments from Mission so that any ex-military people wouldn't immediately clue in.

This was important since the primary entrance to the undercity – the one that wasn't being held hostage by sith guards – was deep in Vulcar territory. Before the sith had shown up and upped the gang wars, Mission and Zaalbar were able to make the trip without being bothered (partially due to Mission's "unaffiliated' status and that no one wanted to mess with Zaalbar after that first incident). That meant it fell to Sphene and Mission to try and avoid as much trouble as possible, to avoid being made full of holes.

Not that certain topics of conversation didn't come up.

Ahead, Sphene gave five sharp raps – the 'all clear sign,' and it was only Carth's earlier insistence that running from place to place and exhausting herself was not going to help rescue Zaalbar, that kept Mission from exploding from cover as if her lekku were on fire. This was _not_ a short or fast trip they were making, and the snail's pace Sphene had set was nearly driving Mission mad.

Zaalbar had been caught for three days. Three days it had taken to find any help. Zaalbar had to be hungry, and mad, and maybe scared (not that he'd ever admit it). He'd never adjusted well to life in the city, even with Mission to help and now he was alone and in a cage, or worse. He'd been dodging slavers all his life, it wasn't fair!

A few left turns later, Sphene popped back into view as Mission and Carth approached.

"Hey, Mission." Sphene pointed to the Vuclar's signals. "I keep meaning to ask, why are these written as if by someone who took a blaster to the head? No two that I've noticed use the same setup."

"That's cause they're um, certain gangs use different layouts that way the others can't read them. You can usually tell which territory you're in by the layout, but figuring out what they say can be a bit harder." It was how Mission knew they were in Vulcar territory. Once a gang expanded their borders, they started marking out the signals of the old owners and scribbling in their own. "Well, except for Jayvar. He always marks the same areas that way people can find the cantina. But don't worry. I don't need signposts to know where we're going. I got all the map we need right here." Mission tapped her temple.

_(Carth gave Sphene a Look, Sphene grinned a little sheepishly. Carth sighed and rolled his eys.)_

"Now c'mon! At this rate it's going to take hours to get to the drop." _Hours_. Big Z didn't have much time. What if they moved him? Or had sold him already? Please, please, please let the gammoreans keep being stupid.

_(Speaking of dropping, Sphene wasn't looking too good. Mission wasn't an expert on human health, but the purple-black that was showing around Sphene's eyes (even under the normal gold-brown skin) probably wasn't good and hadn't been there earlier. Or hadn't been as severe. Mission wasn't sure.)_

"The next turn is just ahead. There's a seven way cross section, you'll want the third to the north and then go up two clicks to a four-cross. We won't be able to hear you signal once you get there though." Seven-crosses were like that. Too much echo from too many directions would distort anything. Sphene would yell to them if it were clear, or come back to them if it weren't instead.

They really should've invested in some coms, but the other equipment had drained Carth and Sphene of their funds, and Mission was by a rule broke most of the time.

Sphene gave a little mock salute, and with a mild crackle of electricity vanished from sight again.

Carth leaned against the wall of hallway, keeping an eye on their back even as Sphene made sure the way ahead was clear. Carth was generally a serious sort (that wasn't hard to figure out), but he seemed worried about something. Not that he left Mission wondering long, since before she could ask, he asked her a question of his own.

"Is there a good place to rest along the way?"

Mission desperately wanted to say 'no.' There wasn't any _time_. This was taking too long. "Why?"

"Sphene's tired. This can go very badly if she tries to set up the mines and blows us up by mistake."

He had a point. Not-blowing-up was good. It could also be why she was going so slow. Mission sighed. "There's a small town in the Undercity that'd probably do good."

"And it's secure?"

"Wouldn't recommend stopping there if it weren't."

"And nobody'd investigate any odd noises?"

Mission stared at Carth, who readjusted his vibroblades. "Do I want to know?"

"She just… has nightmares so she yells in her sleep sometimes."

(_He said this as if it weren't really his secret to tell and felt guilty he had. Weird._)

"I don't think it'll be a problem. All you really gotta do is wave the vibroblades at anyone who gets too curious, and they'll get un-curious fast. The people in the undercity have a good sense of self preservation."

0000

To Mission, the small undercity 'village' wasn't anything special. It was just like any of the half dozen little enclaves in this portion of Taris. Not as densely populated as anywhere in Lower Taris, but unique in that only the most hopelessly desperate lived there, and that the little villages were the only places sentients actually lived on the surface of Taris proper. There was actual _dirt-_dirt here, as opposed to the usual accumulation of grease, smog, and metal flakes that that made things 'dirty' lower city and up.

A low wall had been erected to keep the rackghouls and other creatures out. Although a few of the sentients peered out from the shadows and around the debris at the strangers in their midst, they weren't approached. A few of the people in the village knew Mission, but they didn't know Carth - who was obviously armed – or Sphene, who didn't seem too intimidating at first glance

(_Sphene was obviously tired now that Mission knew what to look for. The colors around her eyes weren't normal for humans who hadn't been punched in the face, and Sphene would lean against the walls in the Lower City, as if they were the only thing holding her up sometimes. That Sphene had gone so slowly probably had to do with how tired she was._)

although there was something 'off' about her.

Sphene kept walking even once Carth stopped. "This it Mission?" He asked.

Mission nodded. "Last stop for a good while." At least, last stop for someone who talked in her sleep. "How long do you think this'll take?"

"Four hours at least."

Ahead, Sphene stopped and looked back at them. "Four hours for what?"

"Rest. So at least we're a little refreshed before going into the rancor den."

"For _four hours_ Carth? Half an hour would do fine for that."

"Look, you need to get some sleep-"

Sphene actually _hissed_, a long 's' through her upper teeth teeth.

_(Mission was reminded that despite the fact that Sphene was at least a few centimeters and twenty pounds smaller than she was, those angry yellow eyes were still scary and unnaturally bright in the dim Undercity. Even her hair seemed to stand on end.)_

"Hell no. We're almost there-" Mission wasn't sure how Sphene knew that but she was right, "-there ain't a point to stoppin' now. Onasi, what're you tryin' ta pull here?"

"Look, you haven't been well lately. You haven't been going easy since you recovered-"

"And Mission's wingman hasn't got a lot of time." Sphene snapped. "I can sleep when I'm dead."

"You might wind up that way if you keep going like this." Carth was _worried_. It was written all over him.

"You are _not_ my father Onasi." She snapped.

_(Carth's eyes glanced over to Mission briefly, doing tactics-math in his head in barely a second.)_

"Never said I was." Carth pulled himself to full height – considerably taller than either Mission or Sphene – and crossed his arms in what Mission recognized as the 'boss' pose. "But I _am_ your commanding officer, soldier."

Sphene's smile was thin but toothy. "Low blow Lieutenant. But I'm no soldier." Despite that last protest, Sphene's shoulder's slumped, an unspoken 'fine fine you win.'

_(Carth's surprise was quickly smothered. He'd take what he could get.)_

"Mission, you said you knew a place."

Mission somehow had the feeling a lot had just happened right under her nose, and she hadn't understood a speck of it. "Right. This way."

Sphene gave Mission a foul look

(_as if she somehow knew Mission was involved in this, and Mission felt __something_ _crawling over her skin like a bad case of static electricity or maybe she was imagining that Carth was either very brave or suicidal or both)_

and Mission did her best to not give away her deep desire to sink into the floor and hide as she lead the way. The little 'house' was composed of a crumbling wall, a few sheets of metal, and some rotting canvas. But it'd give some semblance of privacy and wasn't occupied (anymore).

Later, when Carth suggested Mission scout ahead to make sure the slavers were still where they were supposed to be (with the help of Sphene's stealth generator) Mission didn't think twice about going or why he was sending her off alone.

0000

**Author's Notes**

Remember folks! Review's make the author happy and know what you like and didn't like about the story. They're like author-snacks.

This chapter got re-written and adjusted about half a dozen times. A lot of what was originally going to be here was pushed back for later chapters, but I think it'll be worth it.


	8. Taris Part 7

**Taris – Part 7. Carth.**

The little shack in the 'village' Mission had set them up with was not Carth's idea of secure. But the village walls would keep the rakghouls out and it afforded them some privacy from … well, Carth didn't want to call them the "locals" (as if they lived there by choice, or were some sort of wildlife he'd come to gawk at) but it was close enough.

He'd half anticipated another argument with Sphene about sleeping, but she'd tucked herself into a corner – knees drawn up to her chin and shoulder leaning against the wall – and closed her eyes without any prodding. She was still mad, but she wasn't in good condition, so once she was down it didn't take long for her exhaustion to catch up with her.

Carth almost went with the impulse to cover her with his jacket – well, not really _his_ jacket, but she looked very small like that – and remembered that the last time he'd touched her in her sleep she'd hit him before waking up. She now had a blaster and at least two frag grenades, so he left her alone.

Something about Zaalbar and Mission had touched a nerve, enough that for a few moments outside he'd almost thought she'd try to remove his face with her teeth when he suggested she rest first. But Carth couldn't fathom what about the situation made her act that way. He just… didn't know much of anything about her, personally. He had a rough idea of her traits (temperamental, nosy, pazaak-obsessed, and if that display earlier was any indication, stubborn almost past reason) but not the why or the how behind them.

It was nearly three minutes until Carth realized he was staring at Sphene and making mental notes about how she looked a bit sallow under her tan, that she needed a spin in the refresher and he needed to make sure she didn't exhaust herself like this again. It reminded him too much of when they'd first crashed on Taris and she simply wouldn't wake up. He'd had to decide whether to leave her alone with a probable concussion (meaning it was possible she'd never wake again) to search for Bastila, or stay and make sure at least one other person beside himself survived the Endar Spire. That someone else had survived Saul, even if he couldn't save anyone else-

Carth shook his head and went back outside to keep an eye out for Mission's return. He was spending too much time musing about Sphene, and it'd be easier to get his head straight when he wasn't in the room when she began whimpering. He couldn't do anything about her nightmares.

0000

In the three hours it took Mission to return, Carth checked and cleaned his weapons (twice), scouted as much of the 'village' as he could without loosing sight of the hut, and looked in on Sphene nearly a dozen times. To make sure she was still there and no one had snuck in and slit her throat in the half seconds he hadn't been watching. She hadn't cried out once. Maybe she was too tired to dream.

Mission 'poped' back into view near the gates, and as she made her way over to Carth, she stomped her feet at irregular intervals. Once she was close enough, Carth could smell why. They _were_ going into a sewer after all.

"I guess we should be glad everything down there smells like bantha poo-doo." Mission groused. "Otherwise we'd have problems sneaking _anywhere_."

"Everything's chekced out? They're still where you last saw them?" Carth kept an eye on their surroundings. Not that it was likely that any of the residents were all that keen about ratting them out to slavers, it just never hurt to be careful.

Mission nodded. "Yeah. I think there's about twenty, but it's kinda hard to tell. I got a bit further in with this," Mission pat Sphene's stealth generator, "but I'm not sure if all of them were there at the same time, or what."

Translation: some of the slavers could be out patrolling for victims, and could either remain out of the way, or might wind up returning at a _really bad time_.

"You have an idea of where they're keeping your friend relative to the exits?"

"Yeah. Uh…" Mission looked around for a moment, then grabbed a piece of metal that might've been anything from a pipe to a crowbar at some point in its existence, and began sketching out a rough layout of the slaver base in the dirt. "See here and here? These are the two main entrances, and we're gonna have to get Big Z out through one of them. Me and Sphene can get in through one of the smaller service tunnels – though we're definitely gonna need a spin in the refresher after. I _think_ this one's the closest exit." Mission pointed at the southeast 'entrance.' "But the pipes aren't matching-like. They might bend back and we could wind up going out the other way instead."

"How long do you think it'll take you and Sphene to get Zalbaar, and get to the exit, assuming the pipes don't curve back?"

"I… I'm not sure. It depends on if Big Z's hurt or not." Mission said quietly. "If he's fine, then maybe twenty minutes. They've got manual locks in the sewers. I can get through them, but it takes longer. So, um, maybe twenty-five, thirty minutes."

"From when you actually _find_ Zaalbar?"

"No, from getting in to getting out. It's not too big. Just… full of gamorreans."

With two possible exits and no way to really be sure which Mission, Sphene, and Zaalbar would leave by, or what condition – if any – Zaalbar was in to leave… there was so much that could go wrong. He was tempted to suggest laying some of the mines at the second entrance to give them extra cover if they left that way; except if Zaalbar was injured, trying to take an injured wookiee through a small minefield would be a disaster.

It was quite possible this wasn't going to work at all, although Carth had done more with less in the past. He just had to make sure to cause enough of a distraction and kill enough of the slavers that Mission and Sphene could get Zalbaar out – or at least flee themselves.

If he did his part right, he'd be doing the most dangerous part of the project – keeping the attention of twenty or so gammoreans - so Mission and Sphene shouldn't have any problems.

"Alright. We'll set up the mines at the northwest entrance. I'll lure most of the slavers there, though I'm pretty sure at least one or two will remain to guard the second entrance. I'll give you and Sphene about twenty minutes to get to Zaalbar. I'll set off one of the mines to let you know I've got their attention and you need to get out. Do you have a good idea for a rendezvous point?"

Mission nodded. "Part of the lower city fell in down here once. Made a pretty big pile of mess most people call 'Fallin's Folly.' It's pretty hard to miss once you get out of the sewers."

"Then we'll meet there after."

"Right. … thanks. I mean, thanks a _lot_, you know?"

Carth almost said 'don't mention it' from reflex. But considering that this could very well kill them, 'thank you' was a small thing. "You really had that much trouble getting help? Why couldn't the Beks help you?" The Beks liked her enough to allow Mission and anyone she said was 'clear' into their base. That made it a little odd.

"Well, ever since…" Mission looked down and fiddled with her lekku. "Ever since Brejik decided Gadon wasn't fit to rule anymore, there haven't been a lot of people, you know? Brejik used to be a Bek, but when Gadon wouldn't step down, Brejik left and took a lot of people with him to start the Vulcars. Then the gang wars started and the Sith landed… they don't like to admit it, they used to be top here, but the Beks are hard up for people right now."

He could use that somehow. Carth wasn't sure how, but he could use that later.

Why wasn't Mission already part of the Beks if they had a shortage of people? They liked her, and she seemed smart enough. Good at scouting, certainly. But very, very young. Carth didn't give gangs credit for holding age restrictions, and certainly most of them didn't. It couldn't be because Mission was _young_.

He was being suspicious of a fourteen year old girl. Great. If Saul knew what was going on, he'd be laughing at Carth.

"I didn't know Brejik used to be a Bek."

"He was practically Gadon's son. Was gonna take over when Gadon retired but… I don't know what happened."

"People… change, sometimes, Mission." Like Saul had changed, somehow, right beneath Carth's nose and Carth had been unwilling to notice. But that little truth was all he had to offer.

"Well, I'm never gonna change." Mission apparently decided this was set in stone, the way she tossed her lekku over her shoulder. "I'm _always_ gonna be awesome."

Carth couldn't help but smile, a little. "See that you do kid."

"I'm not a kid!"

0000

After Carth woke Sphene up (and was nearly shot for the trouble) and filled her in on the latest version of 'the plan,' they left the little 'village' and it's creepy, silent occupants behind. Carth half expected at least one of them to stop them at the gate, and go on about how they were doooooooomed. But maybe he'd just seen that in one too many horror holovid on the late-night 'net because no one approached them when they left.

The trip to the sewers was largely quiet, though a few times Sphene looked as if she were about to say something – sometimes turning slightly to her right – before her mouth clicked shut and she kept her silence.

Mission halted their progression twice. Once, to point out 'Fallin's Folly,' which was an enormous trash mountain that Carth, nevertheless, knew they'd be hard pressed to find afterwards. Not because there were lots of trash mountains, but because it was _dark_. He couldn't see the 'roof' of the Undercity, or much farther than twenty feet around himself. No maintenance crews kept the Undercity lit.

The second stop made Carth much more nervous. Instead of using the hand-signal for 'stop,' Mission went completely still in a manner Carth had often seen in wild animals that scented a predator. Both he and Sphene stopped without question. It was nearly ten minutes until Mission relaxed and made the 'all clear' sign.

"What was that about?"

"Rakghouls." Mission said quietly. "They've moved off for now but we shouldn't stay. They prolly got something to eat around here an'll be back for it."

"Why didn't you say so? We should've got cover."

Mission sniffed at him. "Are you nuts? Rakghouls are nearly blind but they hear better than most cath hounds and you stealth like a drunken bantha!"

Sphene snickered.

Carth pinched the bridge of his nose. "Lets just go."

0000

When they finally reached the 'north west entrance' where Carth would be making his distraction, Sphene wasted no time getting to work. Carth was alarmed at first, by the speed and seeming negligence with which she set up the mines, but the more he watched the more he was convinced she knew what she was doing. Better than he did anyway.

He hoped. Because otherwise talking to her while she worked could end badly.

"What happened to Trask?"

"Hmm?" Sphene didn't look up or slow down. Her small size was actually a boon in this case – Carth would've needed several sets of tools for what she was doing. His fingers wouldn't have been able to fit in the confines of those mines.

"The soldier who was with you on the Endar Spire."

"He died, I guess." Sphene shrugged. Her braid twitched like a tail, her monotone was… unusual.

"You don't know how?"

"I didn't see."

For all that she liked to ask Carth questions, getting answers out of her could be like pulling teeth sometimes. "What do you _think_ happened then?"

"The dark Jedi killed him, probably."

"… he got into a fight with a dark Jedi."

"Mm-hmm. Fool thing to do. Saw the guy with the lightsaber and ran right into the room. Told me to get away and jammed the door behind him."

"And you _left_ him there?"

"Good to see you're working out the odds of me coming to get _you_ Onasi." Pause. "I tried. Fool me. Couldn't get the door open. Ran out of time. Fool him doing that too. Did it to get me time and I spent a lot of it trying… I don't know. It was a stupid thing to do."

"You or him?"

"Both of us. I didn't even owe him anything. Why he did it is beyond me."

"Maybe he thought you were worth saving."

"Hmm. Maybe."

0000

**Author's Notes**

Carth does have a sense of humor. It just shows up in odd ways sometimes.

Not much this time around. I come bearing drawings, as evidence of how much time I have.

http: // watcher6161 . deviantart . com / art / Revan-Sketch- 156623509


	9. Taris Part 8

**Taris - Part 8. Zaalbar.**

For two days Zaalbar fought with his cage. It was too small for a wookiee – intended for a human, or twi'lek originally – which forced him into a stooped crouch, unable to properly sit or stand. He could not get the leverage to strike fully at the bars, or pry open the hinges. At best, he could lean his shoulders against the sides to rest his legs and twist his back at the same time.

He couldn't sleep, even though it was quiet aside from the occasional whimper and snuffle of the other sentients in their cages, the distant grunts of gammoreans, and the faint drip of water. Occasionally, one of the other sentients would roar, and thrash against their cages in a great chaos of noise before settling again, panting and still furious.

They were kept in cages, individually, in a 'room' that had once been a tank of some kind for the sewer. It reeked of old water and mold and decay. One cage barely held a large besalisk, whose bulk pressed against the bars and excess flesh squeezed out. The other cages were more appropriate to the size of their inhabitants though – rodians, twi'leks, an iridonian and ithorian. The smell was … unlike anything Zaalbar ever wanted to smell again. Mold, stagnant water, metal, feces – old and new, they were not allowed out to relieve themselves – rotting flesh, blood, and the combination of various sentients in this place.

On the third day, a human came. She was escorted by armed rodians, and spoke with the Upper Tarisian Noble accent – a slow, disinterested drawl. Shopping for her brother, oh how delightful a wookiee, hadn't seen any since the Sith blockade, terribly inconvenient that. How rare, will 3,000 be enough?

Zaalbar bit a chunk off one of the gammoreans who came too close. The human decided Zaalbar wasn't worth purchasing after all and took more interest in the collection of twi'leks at the back. All female twi'leks in various shades of red and orange and a single bright blue female who reminded him of Mission, or how Mission would look in a decade. Most of them cringed back, but two stood their ground – as well as they could in their boxes – and chattered angrily at any who came too close. (They smelled like Mission, or enough like her that sometimes Zaalbar imagined she was nearby.)

The human left with the bright blue twi'lek, the 'rare' one who tried to hide in the shadows.

She was worth 2,000 credits. Slightly more than an expensive droid or a cheap beast of burden.

0000

The next day something exploded and Mission was _there_. He could smell her. He'd done this for her and she was nearby and the silly child she was going to get caught and he couldn't save her this time. But he roared and clawed at the hinges of the cage with a determination he hadn't managed earlier.

Zaalbar was still clawing at the hinges of his cage when Mission, small and shadowy in the dark but still recognizable and a human female (smell of metal and circuits, blood and growing things, and the cold empty places between stars) pushed open the doors of the 'room' and slipped inside.

"[Mission!]"

Her eyes had not quite adjusted to the dark of the tunnels. He could tell by how she turned her head, searching for him. "Big Z! Where are you?"

Another explosion went off, metal groaned, Mission and the human stumbled from the shockwave.

"[I am not far! To your left!]"

"Don't worry buddy! I'm coming!"

Indeed, Zaalbar wasn't far from the entrance. The gammoreans wanted him where potential buyers could see him, or where he could easily be shipped off.

The other captives – prisoners, potential slaves – rose up, as if a light had been turned on. Zaalbar hadn't heard them talk much in the time he'd been there, and he didn't understand all of their languages, but now they cried out, cacaphanous, and their cry was the same: _help us, release us, set us free._

"Blue," the human spoke as she and Mission made their way to Zaalbar's cage, "you work on Zaalbar, I'll see about getting the rest of these people out."

"Right!" Mission ran along the left side, peering into cages and avoiding the occasional hand that reached out to grab her, as the people inside pleaded, _please let me out!_ The human wasn't far behind Mission, but managed to keep her footing when another explosion rang out.

Mission met Zaalbar's cage face first, but aside from a long, "Owww!" didn't stop and began working on – fiddling, it was too dark to see – on the lock.

She shouldn't have come. Zaalbar worried about what bargain she might have made, what price she might have to pay, for the help she'd clearly procured for this. But he could not say he was ungrateful.

Mission usually didn't take so long, but manual locks took a different touch than electric ones, especially when she couldn't see what she was doing. But Zaalbar had spent enough time in the dark that he saw the gammorean who'd come to investigate the open door, and thundered in even as another explosion covered the Zaalbar's warning howl.

The gammorean grabbed the human with one hand – the human was _very_ small, the gamorrean's hand easily wrapped around her neck and the lower part of her head - even as he swatted Mission deeper into the room. Mission arced through the air, shrieking somewhere Zaalbar couldn't see, although he could hear her 'land' with a clang.

"{Harumph. Little human not so smart. Not so strong either. Make good slave.}" The gammorean snuffled, holding the human up and bringing her close to get a good smell.

The human gurgled and kicked in the air. He laughed and shook her.

"{I hear humans strong. Brave. Not so sure little thing is human. Cannot even speak!}"

It was clearly not a very smart gammorean, if it was taking time out from investigating explosions in order to torment something it had already captured.

"[Mission!]"

"I'm ok!"

The gammorean looked up sharply at the sound of Mission's voice. Zaalbar immediately regretted calling out to her. The gammorean tightened its grip around the human's throat and laughed.

Then it started coughing, when the human stopped scrabbling at the hands around her neck, and instead pulled something from her clothes and threw it in the gammoreans mouth.

Two seconds later, the gammorean's head exploded, its body crumpled and the human dropped to the ground. After a moment of flopping around uncoordinatedly, the human got up and stumbled over to Zaalbar's cage.

"-ack." She croaked. "Back." To illustrate what she meant, she pulled a blaster from the top of one of her boots and pointed it at the lock. Zaalbar got as much of himself as far away from the door as possible. The human blasted the lock off. "Zaalbar, Mission. Guard." She moved on to the next cage, and blew the lock off that one as well.

The cage was open, but he wasn't free. This human had saved him, and Mission, to an extent. The human had come into the den, she killed the slavers, she opened the cage. Even exiled, Zaalbar knew he was still beholden to the traditions of his people, even more so when slavery was a shadow he lived under and had just escaped.

The other caged sentients called their thanks to her as she moved around the room, blasting the locks off cages. "Mission, watch the entrance." Her voice seemed to be returning. "Zaalbar, get the gammorean's blaster and cover. Lets not do that again."

Zaalbar didn't even know her name. "[Yes.]"

No more gammoreans came, although two more explosions echoed down the hall. The former tank was soon full of empty cages and free roaming sentients, and a cacophony of languages Zaalbar barely knew. But he didn't need to know the words to know their meaning: they were grateful, but scared.

"Alright everyone!" The human hollered. The sentients fell quiet. "We're gonna do this semi-organized. If ya take the left turn an' keep going, you'll eventually hit the exit. It's prolly guarded but not too heavily, ya all should be able to take them if ya go t'gether. After that, yer on yer own, we ain't going with ya."

"What? Why not?" Mission asked.

"Carth shouldn't be going through his mines like-" this time, not an explosion, but a crack followed by a long hiss, like ice, "-like he is. There went the cyroban."

It didn't mean anything to Zaalbar, but Mission bit her lower lip, worried. "There weren't this many when I checked."

"We'll figure that out later. Everyone!" She bellowed again. "Left, past the guards, to the exit. We ain't goin' with ya - we got shit to blow up. Raise an arm or whatever if ya understood what I just said!"

Most of the sentients did so, and a few moments later the human went among the crowd. Zaalbar lost sight of her for a few moments, but wasn't too worried – he doubted they'd crush their savior in a panic. Most were just too weak from captivity. (His own legs and shoulders ached from three days crouching. But at least now he was standing.) He soon her her shouting again – hoarse, if his ability to judge human tones was any indication – only in a language he didn't recognize. This time some of those who hadn't responded earlier nodded, and spoke back.

The human fired her blaster twice into the ceiling. "Alright. This is yer bid for freedom folks! Take it!"

Zaalbar picked up Mission – and ignored her protesting squeals – to get her out of the way as the group of sentients surged out of the tank-room, into the hall, and in (roughly) the direction the human had pointed them in. It was as disorganized as Zaalbar had expected it to be, since very few were eager to be at the front of a group that could encounter some of their captors but going back wasn't a good option.

A few of them broke off from the group entirely, going opposite of where the human had told them and disappearing into the pipes of the sewers. A few – a small group consisting of a twi'lek, rodian, and the zabrak – stayed behind.

"_Please, we have much we could offer an armed escort, once we reach the Lower City_. _You need not go unrewarded for your efforts-_"

Another explosion went off in the distance.

The human pointed her blaster at the twi'lek. "Get going."

Zaalbar put Mission down, and aimed the pilfered blaster at the other two companions, switching back and fourth, though they didn't seem to notice him and were more focused on their savior.

They left.

"Mission. Ya don't actually have a blaster of yer own right?"

"… I've never fired a blaster before. I got my vibroblade though!"

The human had begun taking a second blaster out from under her shirt, but she paused then put it back. "By the … well, that explains a few things. Nevermind then. How good's your throwing aim? Do you know?"

"I guess I'm ok-"

The human gave Mission two grenades that were pulled out of her jacket. "Stealth up then. We're going to make sure Carth's alright. If you see a good opportunity, use it. Try and stay out of the line of fire otherwise though. Zaalbar, you in any condition for a fight?"

"[I am able. Lead and I will follow you.]" Zaalbar hadn't expected the human to understand – Mission had her mouth open to translate even – but the human nodded.

"Good. Follow my lead then." The human inclined her head towards the door, and they left the cages behind. "Good to meet ya, by the way."

000

Carth was another human with a blaster and vibroblades in a hallway covered with dead and dieing gammoreans. The smell was unlike anything Zaalbar had ever smelled before, and never wanted to smell again, though if he had to compare it to something, it would be rotting hutt intestine. There was blood everywhere, splattered across the walls and even upon the ceiling of the sewer tunnel.

It was satisfying, in a way to know that this was what became of those who'd tried to enslave him. It still left him slightly nauseous though.

"Quit foolin' around Carth!" The female human stepped over bodies – firing mercy shots into gammoreans who weren't quite dead – as she went down the hall to Carth. Zaalbar scooped up Mission (he could smell her, even though she was stealthed and Mission squealed) and followed the human female through the steam of corpses.

"What are you _doing_ here? You were supposed to go out the other way!"

"Yeah, well. Heard ya set off the _cyroban_, somethin' didn't go right."

Behind Carth, Zaalbar could see more of the sewer system. The hall was almost completely blocked with faintly glowing blue ice. Behind the ice, figures – large, rounded, gammorean figures – moved.

They both seemed annoyed at the other. The female, it seemed, had not followed the prearranged plan.

"One of the patrols decided to come in." Carth pointed back at the frozen hall. "Look, we'll talk about this later. You know if there are fewer guards at the other exit?"

"There should be now."

"What's that mean?" Zaalbar wasn't an expert at reading humans, but Carth was not giving her a pleasant look.

Zaalbar growled at him, though Carth didn't seem bothered by it.

"Look, we'll talk 'bout that later. We gotta _go_ before the cyroban wears off. Oh, and meet Zaalbar. Ya both play nice now."

They left the hall of carnage – Zaalbar put Mission back down once they had – and went through the eerily empty pipes of the base. Mission would occasionally stop everyone so she could lock the flow-control points behind them, but it wasn't long until they came to the first signs of the 'slaves' the human female freed earlier.

There weren't a lot of bodies, not like the northeastern tunnel where Carth had been. A rodian here, twi'lek there. A dead gammorean with a metal pipe stuck in its eye. Carth watched the human female with an increasingly dark look. "We'll talk about it later huh?"

"Sure, all ya want. But lets keep moving."

**Author's Notes**

Well, that was fun! Always do enjoy writing about things blowing up.

One thing that always bothered me about Zaalbar's rescue was how… left-field the lifedebt seemed. So here's the author trying to justify it a bit more. Hope it worked as intended.

I'd wanted to have a sort of 'preview pic' of a future scene ready for everyone, but well. It's not. To make up for it, here's the colored version of Sphene's concept sheet, as well as a potential concept for the Exile. (A little early? Probably.)

http:// watcher6161. deviantart. com/ art/ Sphene- Colored- 156771231

http:// watcher6161. deviantart. com/ art/ The- Exile- Concept-Sketch- 156772184


	10. Taris Part 9

**Taris - Part 9**

**Zaalbar.**

As they left the Undercity behind for the safety of the Beks base, Zaalbar found himself growling at Carth a great deal, and keeping himself between Carth and the small human (Sphene) a most of the way. He owed Sphene a lifedebt, and that meant no threatening the small human. Not even from someone she worked with.

"Carth's not so bad, really." Mission had tried to explain. "I don't think he liked that Sphene did something she wasn't supposed to though. That or… Um. The bit with the people she freed. I hope they're ok."

Zaalbar could agree with that much. But the small human had given them that chance – to live free, or die. Anything was better than being enslaved. Those that could, would return to their kin and tribes. Those that could not would be eaten.

The undercity was much like the shadowlands in that respect.

Eventually they stopped leaving a trail of bloody footsteps, but anyone with a decent sense of smell could follow them easily. It was best to be alert.

0000

It was by unspoken consensus that once they'd arrived at the Beks base, everyone wanted to spend some time in the refresher. The two humans were covered in gammorean, and although Mission and Zaalbar had not done much fighting, they'd still emerged from a derelict sewer system. Their entire group _reeked_.

Zaalbar didn't care much for baths, most wookiees didn't. Not the same way that humanoid sentients generally did. Wookies had proper fur after all, not like humans or twi'leks who had to deal with their nakedness with _clothes_. But unlike clothes, Zaalbar could not take his fur off when it was soaked. Drying out was a long and tedious process.

The smell of the slave pen clung to him. So Zaalbar was willing to deal with the trouble of a shower.

However, with the two humans covered gore, they were able to call first run in the only two refreshers the Bek base had to offer. The small human – Sphene, his lifedebt's name was Sphene – had pieces of bone in her fur (it was quite an impressive mane as far as humans went) and a mask of red that went from forehead to her middle. Carth was somewhat less splattered, blood concentrated around his hands and feet. Whatever mines he had set off, he had not done so when the gammoreans had been close enough to splatter him excessively.

The refreshers were connected to the bek shooting range and training area. So while he waited, Zaalbar took the opportunity to settle on one of the benches and clean the weapons (or some of the weapons, Carth had taken his blaster into the shower with him and Sphene had procured a vibroknife from… somewhere somewhere on her person). It was the least he could do.

Mission took the opportunity to fidget about like an anxious kinrath pup with its mother.

"I'm so sorry that I took so long. I tried for _days_ to find some people Big Z." Mission had her hands in his fur. She liked to call it 'grooming.' Zaalbar called it 'unnecessary.' He was just grateful she didn't have a comb. Bad enough that he was going to have a _bath_.

"[It is fine Mission. You got help. I am concerned about… what price, you offered to pay them with.]"

Mission tittered, but it was not her 'I got in over my head but don't worry about it' laugh. "They wanted a guide! Can you believe that? I mean, it worked out perfect!"

"[A guide? That was all they asked for?]"

"Well, Carth did the negotiating, but yeah."

"[Did they say what they needed guiding to?]"

"… no. But I'm pretty sure they're republics from that battle about a week ago. They're probably trying to find some of their people in the undercity or something."

"[… that pod was stripped clean days ago Mission. The people are gone. You know that. They will not be happy.]"

"I… I know." Mission hung her head slightly, then rested her forehead against Zaalbar's arm. Mission was always exceedingly familiar, but Zaalbar tolerated it from her. Mission saw him as a surrogate brother, which made Zaalbar 'family.' She had different views on what that meant than he did. "I just couldn't leave you there. They were the only ones who'd come to help. The Sith, the gang wars, everyone's got something else to do now. Not even Gadon would help."

Zaalbar huffed. "[Remember, your brother did not leave on the best of terms. Even in better times, there is only so far Gadon's good will can go. But it is done now. Do not be sorry.]"

"Well I am anyway. You shouldn't have had to go through that! You should've run with me."

"[Then they would have caught us both.]"

"You don't know that!"

"[It doesn't matter now.]" The slavers – well, not all but most of them – were dead. It was over. There was only one thing left to do. Mission wouldn't be happy. She'd feel she was loosing a 'brother' all over again. "[Except for the life debt I owe the small- Sphene.]"

Mission stiffened, her eyes going wide and her mouth tightening. "… a lifedebt? Are you sure? Why? It's not like they aren't getting paid!"

Zaalbar gave her a disapproving look. Mission bit her lip. In a way, the humans were not getting paid. At least, not in what they'd come for. The pod was empty, their people were gone. But this was not about conventional payment. It was not about a contract. It was about kindness given by those who had no reason to give it. This was about a debt that had not only saved his life, but saved him from cruelties few imagined possible. Cruelties many wookiees who were not so fortunate lived under, broken, diseased, and mad, because they had no choice.

Mission didn't understand. "So that's it? We're through now?"

"[It does not mean I am leaving you. Simply, that we are going with her.]"

We. Mission did not understand lifedebts. But if the way she smiled was any indication, she understood _that_.

0000

"A lifedebt? Are you sure?" Sphene echoed Mission, likely unknowingly. With the blood washed off, her jaw and neck were a deep purple-black, likely from when the gammorean had tried to strangle her. But aside from wincing every so often, she seemed well.

"[I am sure. You have saved me from a life of slavery. I will journey with you, wherever you go.]"

She swallowed, and frowned slightly. "I did not rescue you so you would… become _my_ slave, Zaalbar. The opposite of that, really."

"[It is not slavery if I choose it.]"

"I didn't think lifedebts were a thing of choice."

Zaalbar huffed. It seemed Sphene did not understand any more than Mission did. "[There is always a choice.]" Although in this case, it was not necessarily his choice. The lifedebt was already there, more binding than any manacles could be. Given the option, he could run away from slavery, defy his masters, and die. But he could not deny this any more than he could stop trees from growing or stars from burning. Even if she said 'no,' it would not be erased. Life would just become very, very difficult.

After a few moments, Sphene nodded slowly. "There is. Well Zaalbar, um. Welcome to the team I guess."

"And don't forget, wherever Big Z goes, I go too!" Mission added. She wasn't going to let them forget her, or that Zaalbar was 'hers' as much as Sphene's. "We're a team!"

"… hooo boy." Sphene rubbed the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. "Well, first thing first I guess. You all can throw chops for whoever gets the refresher first. But then we gotta get ready for the _other_ search and rescue. Carth _did_ tell you what we're looking for right?"

0000

**Carth**

Zaalbar was quick to claim the refresher Carth left. Mission was not in sight.

Sphene was fighting with her hair. Unbound, it was probably long enough to reach her knees, but she'd claimed one of the benches so Carth couldn't tell exactly. She was trying to run her fingers through it – they'd brought no combs – and separate it into three separate ropes for braiding.

Why she kept it so long when it was a hassle was beyond Carth. Someone could easily grab it and yank her by it. Or wrap it around her neck.

"Look, sister, we need to talk." Carth crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, waiting. He wasn't used to this. In the Republic Forces everyone knew what their roles and priorities were and stuck to them. This mess with the bad communication – the Sith party, the stealth generator, and especially when she freed a small army (not really an army, a group?) of slaves and basically siced them on a few gammoreans to clear a path…

Except the words dried up when she turned to look at him, and Carth could see the deep purple that started at her jaw and disappeared somewhere under the neckline of her stolen clothes.

"Yeah? I'm always up for a good argument, what's your damage?"

"What's _my_ damage? Look sister-" Carth stopped himself and took a deep breath. He was _not_ there to argue with her. Again. He wasn't going to be provoked into a fight because of her bad attitude. "Are you alright?"

Sphene blinked at him for a few moments. Her shoulders relaxed. Good. "Do I look alright?"

Not really. She looked like she'd been hit with a sledgehammer. Or a gammorean. She'd been covered in blood so Carth knew he hadn't been quite successful in drawing all the attention. But he hadn't thought she'd gotten hurt. "You've looked better."

There was a long silence. This wasn't really how Carth expected this to go. "Look-"

"You didn't like what I did, with those people. That's what this is about?" She turned back around slowly, her back to him and began braiding her hair.

She let him have her back. She knew he was armed. Carth wasn't sure if that meant anything in spacer terms, but years of having 'do not turn your back on the enemy' drilled into him in training… well, it meant something to him. The only people you wanted at your back were _your_ people.

Which was why 'backstabber' was such a nasty insult.

"Among other things. Using them as… to clear out any of the other gammoreans like that wasn't right."

"Right?" She didn't look at him. "What wasn't right about it?"

That was _not_ a question he expected her to ask him. She wanted _him_ to explain why her actions weren't acceptable. He'd expected her to defend herself instead. "They were unarmed, they were probably sick, if they'd been down there long. Most of them probably had no combat training-"

"I'm hearing a lot of 'probably' Carth."

"This hasn't been the first slaver ring I've helped clear out. Between you, Mission, and Zaalbar, you should've been able to-" Sphene was purple chin down. "-handle it. Get them out safe."

"Carth, there was no way in this or any other armpit of the galaxy I would've been able to keep them safe. Especially not and make sure you were ok at the same time. There were too many of them, we couldn't have herded them all through the undercity – and they would've wanted us to, trust me."

"… a lot of them probably were eaten by the rakghouls." She could've left them there, where they'd still be alive. But still enslaved by whatever remained of the gammoreans. Maybe Carth, Mission, Sphene and Zaalbar could have gone back for them, gotten them out slowly. But it was a _big_ 'maybe.' There was no way to know for sure.

They still had to rescue Bastila. Did they have that kind of time to do this too?

Sphene sighed. "I think most of them were locals, should know their way around the rakghouls. But if not… then they got their shot at dieing free instead of living as slaves."

Carth wasn't so sure that was any better. Being that 'dieing free' involved being eaten alive. "You believe that?"

Her arms were stretched out behind her to keep her braid tight. "You… ah. You know, Zaalbar swore a lifedebt to me, for freeing him."

Again, that was not the response he'd been expecting. "… that sounds like walking straight from one set of chains to another."

"It isn't. I don't understand, what exactly it means to Zaalbar's people. But I have an idea. You saved my life, you know."

She 'owed' him. She said that quite a few times, that they weren't even. At least, that was the best Carth could make of it. But she'd never said how much she owed, or how far. "But for life? Isn't that a little extreme?"

"You still don't see." She tied off the end of her hair but still didn't look at him. "Have you ever had someone point at you Carth, and tell you you were worth a piece of furniture? Has anyone ever pawned you off to pay their debts? Has anyone ever decided that your life was worth less than a machine?"

"Of course not-" Carth stopped mid-sentence. She wouldn't _say_ it, but now it was so obvious Carth could almost kick himself for not realizing sooner. No wonder she'd reacted that way the moment Mission had said 'slavers.'

"Then don't tell me if it was right. You can't know what…" She fell silent.

Carth didn't know if she felt she'd run out of things to say, if saying it was simply too hard, if she didn't know the words, or if she felt she'd said too much already. They were both quiet for a minute.

"I'm sor-"

This time her head snapped around, her braid fell from her hands unfinished. Carth wasn't sure if the pain was from moving so fast with an injured neck, or something else. But she was definitely angry. She actually hissed at him. "_Don't_. Don't ever say that to me."

He didn't know her at all. "Why not?"

"It … doesn't change anything. Doesn't _mean_ anything. Doesn't make it hurt less or…" She clicked her teeth, agitated. "Don't-"

"I'm not pitying you."

Some of the anger drained away. "I know. Doesn't fix anything. So just… don't."

Carth knew four things about Sphene. She was a smugger. She loved pazaak. She had a hellish temper. She used to be a slave.

0000

**Author's Notes**

Reviews folks! They're little treats that keep the author happy!


	11. Taris Part 10

**Taris - Part 10**

**Mission.**

Mission's butt hurt and Carth and Sphene had another of their argue-then-make-up sessions. Sort of. Once Mission was out of the refresher there was that tentative silence that meant too much had been said. They weren't quasi-flirting like they had the first time Mission'd seen them do this, but she wasn't sure if that was normal for them to begin with.

_(Sphene was facing away from everyone, straddling the bench and tieing off the end of her hair. She was showing Carth her __back__. Mission wasn't sure if Carth understood what that meant for a spacer. You only ever showed your back to your wingman if you could help it. Mission didn't think Carth was Sphene's wingman, though maybe she wanted him to be. Carth leaned against a wall nearby, uncertainty in the way his arms were crossed. He wanted to do something but wasn't sure what.)_

Whatever was or wasn't going on, Mission didn't want to be in the middle of it. That and soon Carth was going to bring up what he wanted Mission to 'guide' them to, and Mission really wasn't looking forward to admitting that nothing was there anymore, and she'd strung them along. Especially since Big Z had a lifedebt to Sphene, which meant they'd be spending a _lot_ of time around yellow-eyes.

"I'm gonna go ask Gadon if it's ok that you guys can sleep here for the night-cycle. I don't know about you guys but I'm _bushed_." Which wasn't entirely a lie. It had been a long few days. Mission doubted Carth was feeling all that fresh either. And while Mission and Big Z were cool to have around, Zaalbar's words reminded her not to take Gadon's good will for granted.

Carth gave Mission the 'go ahead' nod and Mission didn't waste any time getting out of there.

_(Their voices carried a little beyond the door into the hall. "Once everyone's together you should see a doctor."_

"_I'm fine Carth. I think if it were anything serious I would've keeled over by now."_

"_I'd rather not risk that. I didn't carry you out of that pod for nothing."_

"_Now that was weak. Who taught you to fight dirty flyboy?"_)

Mission really needed to come up with some way to make this look like it wasn't her fault. Though it kind of was. Carth was so not going to be happy.

First thing first. Talk to Gadon. Once everyone was down for the night… uh, panic. No, no panicking. Everything would fall into place, she just needed some time. Mission was lucky like that. She hoped. She was lucky at pazaak and dipping her hands into people's pockets when they weren't looking. Carth and Sphene had the kind of luck that got them off doomed star ships.

As Mission made her way to Gadon's office, Tienchek

_(he was cute, but that ego wasn't and he liked to act as if he lost of one of his lekku doing something awesome, even though everyone knew an angry cantina waitress had stuck it in a garbage disposal)_

waved to her. He was leaning against the doorway to the Bek cantina, trying to look cool. There was a massive crowd just inside, and everyone seemed agitated. "Mission!" He called. "Look, I know you're trying to get help with Zaalbar, but this is big! I can help you with that if you help me." Tienchek obviously hadn't seen Big Z around.

"You lazy shcutta. You wouldn't help me earlier, why should I help you now?" Something was going on, that much was obvious. But Tienchek was bad news. Everything he went near tended to go belly up.

Tiencheck looked over his shoulder, then went over to Mission. He tried to grab her arm but Mission slipped around him and kicked him in the shin. "Didn't you learn from Rhenda not to grab girls who don't want it?" Mission put her hands on her hips – showing off the hilt of her vibroblade as her jacket was pushed back. "Next time you try it your other lekku is mine. What the hell do you want?"

He winced and backed up, hand up. "There's no need for that!" He looked around nervously – either he didn't want to be overheard, or he didn't want to be seen backing off from a 'kid.' "Look, I know you managed to lift some security codes off the Vulcars last week."

"Yeah? So what?" How did he know that? Not good.

"So they managed to break in just last night and steal something big. I'm trying to get some people together to get it back. You help with this, Gadon might think about letting you into the Beks! And I'll get you that help to find that wookiee of yours."

"You know what they stole?"

Tienchek looked around again, nervously. "You didn't hear it from me. But they got the prototype accelerator for the swoop race. We're gonna be so boned if the Vulcars win this year."

He knew something more. But he wouldn't talk if he was too intimidated that she was going to unman him. Mission pulled out her side-deck and began shuffling her cards. A double signal – her hands were no longer near her vibroblade, and were occupied. Threat of violence over. "No, we'll be boned if the Asps win this year." She snorted. "The Vulcar's are mean, but that's all they got going for them. Winning this year won't help, they got nothing to offer. They blow up all their good stuff."

Mission hated playing the 'dumb kid.' It got her a bad reputation. But people kept buying it and they always thought she needed everything explained to her.

"That's just it!" Tiencheck jerked a thumb back at the cantina. "That's what everyone's all messed up over. The Vulcar's offering up a slave this year. Some republic officer as their part of the prize winnings. So we really need that accelerator back. This is big Mission. You in?"

If Tiencheck weren't such a creep Mission would've hugged him. Captured republic officer held by the Vulcars? If that didn't get Carth going away from the downed pods in the undercity, Mission wasn't sure what else would.

"No twenty Tien." She had to get to Gadon. If Tienchek knew she had those codes, who else could know? "You think no one's gonna figure out you told me about it? Like that's not gonna get me in trouble." Gadon didn't like Mission getting involved. Kept saying she was too young. Too young her left lekku.

"Well, you could just-"

"Just what? Give _you_ the codes so you can say you did it all by yourself? And then leave me hanging?"

"I can help you get Zaalbar back!" He hissed.

"I don't need your help, I already got Big Z." She fanned her cards to hide her grin. "You talk too much Tien."

"You little-"

"[Mission!]" Big Z called from the gym entrance. Tienchek quickly backed away from her.

"Over here Big Z!"

No matter how much Big Z had tried to dry himself off, he still looked like a drowned… well, he looked like something that didn't like water very much. Which was _hilarious_. It shouldn't be funny cause Big Z had just been freed from slavers and had a hard time, but he was still dripping slightly and looked miserable. "[Carth wishes to speak with all of us. You have not seen Gadon yet?]"

"Nah, not yet. I got waylaid by this shutta." Mission jerked her thumb at Tienchek, who glared but the way Tienchek's eyes kept going to Big Z told Mission he wasn't going to try anything immediately. "I guess it can wait." Talking to Gadon had been to stall for time, but she didn't need to stall anymore.

"What can wait?" Tienchek was still mad and probably wanted to get back some of what he'd lost in the info-game.

Mission rolled her eyes at him and closed up her side deck as she walked away. "Tien, unlike some people, I know how to keep my mouth shut."

Griffith often said fast talk and slick words could work wonders. Mission had learned on her own however, that a little silence could go a long way too.

0000

If she didn't get this right the first time Carth would space her. … well, maybe not. But he'd single handedly held off a small band of gammoreans with a few mines, a blaster, and a pair of vibroblades. This translated as 'do not piss off Carth Onasi' and Mission wasn't sure enough of Sphene to think that the other human would step in, even though Sphene flagged interest

(_Mission's turn to draw or pass she needed to get to that soon or else it'd look like she didn't care._)

lifedebt from Zaalbar or no.

So now it was time to take a page from Griff's book and talk fast.

Carth and Sphene seemed to have worked things out

(_Carth was sitting next to her now, though he still had his arms crossed and Sphene had turned to stretch her legs out_)

and wow Sphene was _really_ purple, that looked painful.

Mission had Big Z behind her. She could do this.

"Geeze Carth, I didn't even get to Gadon's office. What is it?" Normal, sound normal.

Carth shook his head. "We're not going to be staying the night here. We're going to Upper Taris so Sphene can see a doctor. We'll rest up and start looking for-" Carth paused. "I never told you what we were looking for did I?"

"Nah, it's cool. Sphene told me. Look, about that – you guys aren't going to find your people in the undercity." Mission regretted saying that immediately because the look Carth gave her

(_like he was suddenly trying to decide if he'd have to kill her at some point and if so how fast he'd have to do it)_

was very not nice. "Waitwaitwait! I talked to Tienchek – he's a Bek – on my way to see Gadon and it sounds like the Vulcar's got some Republic officer they caught and are offering… um, it as part of their prize offering for the swoop races this year."

Carth relaxed. A little. "You're sure about this Mission?"

"Yeah, he was trying to recruit me into some wackjob because with that piece of bait the Vuclars stand to win some major recruits if they top out at the race this year. I can talk to some of the other Beks, but I'm sure they'll tell us the same thing. Everyone seemed pretty worked up."

"Think it could be the Princess, Flyboy?" Sphene raised an eyebrow at him.

Carth was quiet for a moment. "I find it a little hard to believe Bastila would've been caught by gangsters."

"I'm finding it hard to believe that the almighty savior of the Republic got her butt handed to her over Taris and making all this necessary, but there you go. It's the best lead we've got so far. Besides, if we're going with this 'principles' thing, we have 'no one left behind' and 'slavery can suck its salty-'"

Carth cut Sphene off. "We'll look into it."

Mission wasn't sure if she was disappointed or not. That could've been an interesting swearing-out.

"Well then Flyboy, how're we doing this?" Sphene was grinning widely, as if something were madly funny.

"Nice try sister. You're still going to see a doctor. Mission, how long until the swoop races?"

"Got a few days." Mission had to do a quick count in her head. "Five days, total. Unless it gets pushed back for some reason."

"When do the Vulcars have to hand over their portion of the prize winnings?" Carth was clearly doing the 'leader thing' and making with the plans.

"Day before the races. They can't withdraw anything or add to the pot later either. Once they've tossed in, that's it. Though it's popular to show off what you're putting in ahead of time anyway. Boosts morale and recruitment."

"Any ideas about where they could be holding Bastila?"

"Um. No." Mission felt a little bad about that. Some 'guide.' "I'd say they're keeping her in the base, except … well. The Vulcars have a rep about breaking any good loot they get. If Brejik's got half a brain he won't keep her there dangling in front of his troops." Like a bull rancor in a china shop. "And I figure any of the off-site holding spots that I know of… well, hopefully he doesn't think anyone knows about them cause otherwise we're for pot."

Carth shook his head. "We've got time." Though he didn't look happy about that. "For now we'll head back to Upper Taris to rest and restock." Sphene opened her mouth, but Carth interrupted, "Yes, you can go back to sharking the nobles once you've been to the doctor." Sphene grinned.

0000

**Author's Notes**

Sorry that this is up late. Came down with The Sick which made writing somewhat difficult.


	12. Taris Intermission

**Taris – Intermission. Bastila.**

Failed. She'd _failed_. The very first thing she'd been permitted to do on her own hadn't even _started_ before it had ended in a ball of flame and so many dead. The greatest hope for the Republic they'd called her. The slayer of Revan. They would push back the Sith with her battle meditation.

Never mind that she'd tried to tell the Republic officers otherwise. Sometimes she felt her words fell on deaf ears. Her battle meditation alone wouldn't get them through this. But still, the council had offered her and she'd been put in charge of a battle cruiser. The Endar Spire was not a new ship, her weapons and crew untested. There had been a ceremony, the previous captain hiding her unease as she put (it wasn't the captain's choice, so was it really 'giving'?) her crew and her ship in Bastila's hands. And where Bastila had been "Padawan Bastila," she became "Jedi Bastila" (nevermind she didn't have her knighthood yet) because she could not hold a military title.

It seemed only Lieutenant Onasi ever heard her concerns. He had nodded – Lieutenant Onasi was always weary of everything and everyone around him, even her and it was such a relief to know she wasn't the only one keeping an eye on things – and made suggestions and kept his distance and did not worship.

The crew looked at her with such wholehearted hope and now they were dead. She could hear them screaming, their echoes in the force made her bones shiver and her skin ache. They died to keep her safe.

Their hope lingered as well.

There is no passion, there is serenity.

No passion. Fear for the future was passion. Sorrow for the dead – there is no death there is the force – was passion. Humiliation at being chained, trapped in her own mind, manhandled, stripped, and dressed by strangers was passion. Rage, that they would treat her as a bauble, as something pretty to use, when she was not an object to be used in petty gang wars and power plays while the galaxy crumbled into darkness, that was passion.

But her captors underestimated the strength of a Jedi's mind. Her mind. Her captors believed the neural inhibitor was enough. But the force is stronger than that. She is stronger than that, and Bastila pushed the edges of the neural inhibitor, and found them not as restrictive as her captors thought them to be. (Pride, that is passion.)

Bastila could still feel through the force, and through her bond. There were things afoot, moving into place. There is no chaos, there is harmony. The force was moving things into place.

Sometimes, through her bond, she could move things as well. A nudge, a push, when she sensed danger. It was one thing to make a battlefield dance to her tune. A small crew was easier to manage, even when she was unsure of the outcome or the movements.

Bastila only needed to be ready. Everything was not hopeless. (Hope is a passion. There is no ignorance there is knowledge and she _knows._)

Her bond survived. She did not know if the rage was her own.

There is no emotion, there is serenity.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

There is no passion, there is peace.

There is no chaos, there is no chaos, there is harmony.

There is no death, there is the force.

Bastila would not let failure hold her back. This was too important to fail. She would keep her center.

She would not let the hope of the dead be in vain. She would not fail the living.


	13. Taris Part 11

**Taris - Part 11. Mission.**

It turned out, not everyone would be going to Upper Taris. Carth and Sphene had two Sith uniforms that had let them sneak down in the first place, but there was still the little issue of getting Mission (a totally kicking twi'lek) and Zaalbar (four hundred pounds dry wookiee) past the guards.

"We could say they're prisoners. No offense you all." Sphene's voice was disembodied – she was behind a stack of crates as she changed into the Sith uniform.

"None taken." Mission shrugged.

Carth was already in his uniform, sans helmet, and looking very much like he wanted to scratch his skin off because of it. Mission had no idea how he'd managed to get past the guard in the first place, his posture was _screaming_ that he loathed what he was wearing. Though it could be interpreted that he simply wanted to punch someone's face in instead. "Wouldn't work. We'd have to give them to the guards to be taken to holding. Then _we'd _ have to give a report on the how and why."

"You know an awful lot about Sith protocol Flyboy."

"Most of those 'Sith' soldiers used to be Republic. Revan and Malak took part of the fleet wholesale. Unless they managed to completely rewrite everything ground up in the space of a few years, the standard protocols should be the same. They rewrote most of them during the Mandalorian Wars anyway." Carth? Bitter? Naaaw.

Sphene clicked her teeth. "We may have to split up then, like it or not. That's what communicators are for anyway. Hell, Zaalbar and Mission could do some scouting out of the Vulcar warehouses while I'm sitting pretty at the doctor you insist on me seeing."

"With no secure channels and the Sith monitoring everything?" Carth shook his head. "They aren't looking for a couple of grunts like us and I don't want to give them a reason to. Especially if they find out Bastila may be used as some sort of trophy for this swoop race."

"I… don't think that'll be a problem." Mission felt the need to point out. "I mean, the swoop races are more than sacred around here. They're _tradition_. If the Sith got the brains any deity would give a bantha, they'd figure out that trying to hijack the races will unite all the gangs against them. The Sith'd get hit so hard their kids'll come out dizy and their ancestors will be going 'what the hell was _that_?' The gangs wouldn't keep to the Lower City, they'd riot all over Taris. They might even try to hit the blockade."

"But if the Sith find and get Bastila before the races, that wouldn't unite the gangs?"

"I… I don't know." Mission bit her lip. "I guess it depends on who tries to rally everyone. If Brejik does it it'd just look like he was pissed about loosing, uh, public opinion cause that was a big deal for the Vulcars."

"So it'd come down to gang politics if the Sith managed to get Bastila before the races."

"Yep."

"What about after?"

"Like you said, politics. Would depend on who won. Or who stole her." After the race that would be a whole different pazaak round. A much more complicated one, and trying to imagine it threatened to give Mission a headache.

Carth was quiet for a few moments. "I know this isn't what you agreed to when we arranged rescuing Zaalbar for you Mission, but-"

"It's alright!" Mission chirped. She could see where this was going. Besides, it wasn't like she hadn't thrown in her lot with Sphene – since Zaalbar had – although for the moment Carth was calling the shots. "Look, you get Sphene checked out-"

"I heard that." Sphene's voice interrupted briefly. "I _am_ an adult capable of gauging my own wellbeing thanks."

"After that stunt with not sleeping for two days, I'd think otherwise." Carth said dryly.

If silence could be embarrassed, Sphene managed it.

"Um, yeah. You guys head to Upper Taris. Me and Big Z will try and scout out the Vulcar hiding holes, see if they got your officer at one of them. We'll be keeping an ear to the ground otherwise too, if anything else crops up. Right Big Z?"

"[Of course. If this is alright with Sphene?]"

"It's fine with me Zaalbar. You two do what you do best." Sphene finally finished getting her armor on and stepped out from behind the crates.

(_Carth looked like someone slapped him. Carth didn't wear his armor well but Sphene fit into it easy and he knew it. Everything about Sphene screamed SITH in big letters and maybe in that deep voice from the trailers for action holovids. The yellow eyes didn't hurt any._)

"We'll rendezvous back at the cantina in thirty hours." Carth sounded a little strangled.

"Why Jayvar's?" Not that Mission didn't like Jayvar's, but there had to be less crowded places to meet up.

"Sphene has a nose for cantinas so it's probably the only place we can find our way back to without trouble on our own."

(_Carth was having problems settling down, but he was trying. Not succeeding very well, but trying. The look he gave Sphene was half apologetic half something else Mission didn't recognize._)

Sphene went over to Mission, holding out her stealth generator

(_she was not looking at Carth, her shoulders stiff_)

and grinning wryly. "This'll do you more good than me at this point." As Sphene gave Mission the stealth generator, she added, low and quiet, "_And don't pull that again_."

Mission's stomach dropped somewhere in the vicinity of her toes. Sphene knew what Mission had done – or rather, what Mission hadn't said. Mission didn't know how-

Louder, Sphene continued, "Stay outa trouble. Don't provoke anything twice your size, yada yada."

"And don't do anything drastic. If you aren't sure whether or not they have Bastila, don't push it." Carth apparently hadn't noticed anything.

Mission hooked the stealth generator around her waist, feeling cold and shivery.

"Right."

It wouldn't be until long after Mission and Big Z said goodbye to Carth and Sphene at the Upper-City elevator, would Mission feel calm again.

0000

Even if Mission didn't know exactly where the Lowercity Market was, she would've been able to find it quickly enough from the noise. The Market was a mile's worth of shops that twisted through the Lowercity tunnels like an enormous tapeworm. Its location would change from month to month, based on gang politics and territorial disputes towards whatever was the most 'neutral' territory for the time being, and with the current Sith blockade and upcoming swoop races, the market was twisted and bent.

There was no clear neutral ground, so the shopkeepers and booth-tenders were on edge. The Market was not gang affiliated, but it was hard to avoid fights when no one was sure which side of the territorial line they were on. The Market didn't have bouncers. It didn't need bouncers. There were no fights at the market. It was tradition. Not to mention blood in the tunnels was bad for business.

Mission navigated the crowded tunnels easily, keeping a close eye on her pockets, and a somewhat looser eye out for people who weren't paying close enough attention to theirs. Big Z had a harder time. He'd stop, his nose twitching madly and eyes watering slightly from sensory overload. The market was a cesspool of smells and sound. Mission wasn't sure if she just had a poor sense of smell, or had gotten used to it, but Big Z never really adjusted.

"My'ee!" Mission called, waving and jumping slightly so that the zabrack grocer could see her in the crowd. Sure, Mission would get to looking for Bastila, but there'd been heavy undertones of 'recuperating' to the whole 'lets split up for a day' talk. Big Z hadn't eaten in _forever_ (a hungry wookiee up close was not pretty) and Mission was pretty stoked herself.

"Mission! Gel, what'cha doin' gone so long? Ya been get'in in trouble 'gain gel?" My'ee had the most _interesting_ horns for a zabrack female – a pair that started at her forehead and curved backward almost to the base of her skull. Her tattoos were also very pretty, in Mission's opinion.

Mission grinned widely and once she reached My'ee's table, leaned over to give her a hug.

_(My'ee was very huggable, probably because as a mother of ten My'ee was made to hug.)_

"Oh you know, talking fast, separating the rich and gullible from their credits, the usual."

"Not so usual, since ah see ya got yer wookiee back. Got us all right worried dat did. Ya both do good work ya do." My'ee didn't have eyebrows, but she did a good impression of raising them at Mission.

(_Also, as a mother of ten, My'ee was good at getting people to spill their dirty secrets with a vaguely disapproving expression._)

Mission ducked her head slightly and grinned sheepishly. "Well, I got some help. Doing some downtime before I pick up the job again. I got enough credit from last month for some grub?"

"For ya maybe. Not so sure bout yer wookiee, eats like a damn bantha." My'ee eyed Zaalbar for a moment before shrugging, and waving one of her daughters over

(_Chaku had not inherited her mothers horns, unfortunately. Or her mother's bluntness. Chaku was just… nice in a way that managed to deflect any and all hostilities and Mission would pay good money if she thought Chaku could teach her that._)

and gesturing for her to put some of the fruit into bags. "Den again, I hear ya were responsible for helpin' get Meesha's girl away from dem slavers. Dat gotta be worth somethin'. I'm sure Meesha'd be willin' ta cover for dat as thanks."

That made Mission go very still. "… people know about that?"

My'ee nodded. "I'd steer clear of da Watchers if I was ya. Dey had dere fingers all over dat little show."

"Thanks for the heads up My'ee." Mission hadn't thought anyone had seen them well enough to call Mission out on it later-

Damn. Meesha's girl might've been among some of the slaves that Sphene had set loose. Mission'd have to warn Carth and Sphene about that. Mission and Zaalbar were more probable targets – people would recognize them since they were local. But Sphene had a rather distinctive appearance for a human.

"Be safe gel. Ya do good work, an' you be sure ta let Gadon know dat. Becks need someone with some sense on dere side on da field these days." My'ee and her horde of daughters lived in Beck territory, but on the fringes. They were probably in danger of having their home become Vulcar territory.

"I will-" And just like that, Mission realized she couldn't. She wouldn't be joining the Becks. Sphene was an offworlder, and once Bastila was found and debts paid off, Mission would be leaving with Zaalbar. Who would be going with Sphene.

Leaving Taris. The gangs and their wouldn't matter anymore. All that effort into convincing Gadon that she was old enough and capable enough to take her brothers place wouldn't matter. My'ee and her horde of daughters wouldn't matter. Tien'chek and his missing lekku and Brejik's ego and Gadon's legacy wouldn't matter. Waiting and hoping for the day Griff would come back wouldn't happen.

Space was a big empty question mark in the future.

0000

Something was wrong. Mission knew it the moment she and Zaalbar returned to their apartment after their unsuccessful scouting of the Vulcar loot-depots. (There'd been nothing. No Bastila, or a Republic who might've been mistaken for Bastila, or any corpses that could've been any of the two.)

She didn't know what was wrong, but her scoundrel-sense tingled and she froze, not even a full foot from the door as she peered into the dark, cursing her poor low-light vision. But all Mission could see was their broken table, the sagging couch, the unpowered holonet viewer with its leeched-from-the-neighbors connection, and the darkened doors that lead to the refresher and the bunk room.

Zaalbar growled a warning, and sniffed briefly before falling silent, waiting for her signal.

"I know." Mission kept her voice low. For once, she was grateful their door was not an automatic and thus didn't slide closed behind them, trapping them if they needed to get out quickly.

"[They are still here.]"

Like most Lower City apartments, Mission and Zaalbar didn't keep much of anything there that was worth taking. Leftover food and furniture mostly. Nothing worth risking getting killed over. Mission would miss the holonet, but she'd miss her skin more.

She loosened her vibroblade – just in case – but jerked her thumb back to the open door. Zaalbar turned, slowly, in case someone was waiting for them outside, and left. Mission backed out of their apartment and didn't turn her back on it or the empty hallway – Zaalbar had her back and would handle going forward – until they were well away.

Maybe Trish at the cantina would let them crash at her place for a few hours.

But what bothered Mission more than anything, was the idea that maybe whoever had been in their apartment hadn't been after their stuff, but might have been after them.

**Author's Notes**

Here's a dirty little secret: writers _love_ cliffhangers. Nearly as much as we like reviews.

This was a very Mission-centric chapter, but it was also about Taris. Living on Taris, other people living on Taris, and having strangers break into your 'house.'


	14. Taris Part 12

**Taris - Part 12. Carth**.

"Honestly, it's a miracle your neck isn't broken." Dr. Reyes' voice carried into the hall. "You'll want to stick to soft foods, but mostly you'll just need to take it easy for a few days avoid doing some fool thing like being strangled."

The O-MOM clinic was likely the only free clinic on the sunny side of Taris, but with the Sith cutting off traffic between Upper and Lower Taris, it was nearly empty. The lobby had been devoid of anyone save a very bored looking receptionist. Dr. Reyes had been available almost immediately, so Carth was spared worrying about whether or not Sphene was seriously injured, in between examining posters about the symptoms of exrulitis (an STD that had something to do with cannoks and Carth _really_ didn't want to know) and the rakghoul infection.

Dr. Reyes hadn't let Carth into the examination room, but he'd been allowed to loiter outside to keep an eye on his 'cousin' while Dr. Reyes poked at Sphene.

"Trust me Doc, I've no intention of repeating the experience."

"See that you don't. I stress: no strenuous activity Ms. Starsmith. You're free to go."

Sphene emerged from the examination room, tugging her collar back into place with short, agitated movements. She lifted her nose at him and snorted. "I told you so."

"Someone has to make sure you take care of yourself." Sure, smugglers lead dangerous lives. Soldiers did too. But there wasn't any need for wandering around injured. It wasn't as if they were on Dxun with Mandalorians shooting at them, making getting to the nearest field hospital (if it hadn't been blown up) a practice in taking ones life into ones own hands.

Sphene raised an eyebrow. "Who says I don't? C'mon, we both need to eat something."

"And get back to pazaak I suppose." Carth said wryly, and waved Sphene down the hall.

"Two for the price of one. Figured you'd like that." She said cheerfully. Something about her tone rang false, but Carth couldn't determine what.

"Excuse me, Mr. Starsmith? If I could have a word with you?" Dr. Reyes exited the examination room. Carth blanked for a moment before he remembered that was the surname Sphene had given as 'theirs.'

"Yes Doctor?"

Dr. Reyes clasped her hands for a moment, before gesturing to the examination room. "In private, please."

Down the hall, Sphene stopped, looked back, and raised an eyebrow.

Ok, now this was suspicious. "Anything you have to say to me, can be said in front of her."

Dr. Reyes paused for a long moment. "Very well, Lieutenant." The warning klaxons went off full blast. She shouldn't have known that. "If… if there is any way, I hope you can send a message to my brother. He's…" Dr. Reyes paused and looked down the hall at Sphene briefly before looking at Carth again. "He's in the Third Fleet, Corporal Miguel Reyes. He spoke very highly of you."

Was this a setup? If he said no, he'd tip off that he knew something was wrong. "I'll see what I can do Doctor. Any particular message?"

"Just… Ororo's doing fine. And it's a girl. That's all."

That could've been code for all sorts of things, names, genders, Ororo being fine or not being fine or-

But Carth could hear Morgana's voice, a little faded in memory, from static interference, and a whispery from screaming and a good deal of drugs. It's a boy Carth and I'm naming him Dustil it's a good name. No I don't care that you think it sounds like 'Dust Bowl' it's a good name.

Carth didn't remember a Miguel Reyes, but once they were off planet… he'd look into it. "I'll let him know."

Carth hadn't realized how tense Dr. Reyes was until she relaxed. "Thank you." She lifted her chin then strode down the hallway – opposite of Sphene – at a fast walk and vanished around the corner.

It could be a trap. Someone – the Sith – knew they were on planet and were trying to trip them up. See if Carth would get sentimental enough over a sob story and try to do something stupid like send a message off planet through the Sith blockade and give away his exact location.

Or try to get a confirmation on who he was. Which he'd just given away by not denying it when she'd called him lieutenant and then agreeing to send that message. Damn. This was not his kind of environment. He'd much rather be behind the controls of a fighter.

"Hey, Carth. We getting a move on? Those rich nobles ain't gonna fleece themselves." Sphene had crossed her arms and tapped one foot in an exaggerated 'impatient' pose.

"Fine. Lets go."

0000

If anyone were following them, Carth couldn't tell, and Sphene gave no indication that she noticed anything was wrong. But two hours later, Carth again found himself in a cantina while Sphene 'fleeced' nobles out of their money. She'd set herself up at the pazaak tables in the entrance, with her feet _on_ the table, chair balanced on two legs as she occasionally laughed and flung one of her cards onto the table. But she was a big girl and if she _really_ wanted to break her neck then who was Carth to hover and make sure she didn't when she fell down?

And there was really only so much pazaak he could watch anyway. Carth picked a spot at the bar where he could (discreetly) keep Sphene in his sights in case of trouble, and still 'watch' the holovid. Or at least pretend he was. (Something called Beachwatch was on. It involved half naked twi'leks and questionable water-rescue practices.)

It was too soon to decide that maybe that talk with Dr. Reyes was exactly as it had appeared to be – a sister trying to get a message to her brother that his wife and child were doing fine, but couldn't get the message out through the Sith blockade. He'd have to see if Mission knew anything when they met up with her, and be watchful the rest of the time. (It was such an amateurish mistake that Carth could've kicked himself.)

Not to mention they'd need a 'Plan B.' Carth hoped Mission would find some evidence of Bastila, but he doubted it would be that easy. Their best bet would be during the swoop races. The… he didn't want to call Bastila 'loot,' but as far as the gangsters were concerned, that's what she was and she'd be bundled up with the rest of the things that were the swoop race's winnings. Given what Mission had said – the swoop races were _tradition_, which from her inflection seemed to double as 'inviolable' – then either said loot would be loosely guarded or... no, even if it used to be done like that, with the Sith on Taris security would be tightened considerably. The Sith weren't known for playing by anyone's rules. His own smoking homeworld was testament to that.

The handover might be the best time. Carth doubted – especially if Mission couldn't find Bastila – that he and Sphene would be able to intercept Bastila as she was given to the Swoop Race authorities (whoever they were and however that worked). But they might be able to liberate Bastila before she became someone's toy. Zaalbar would be particularly useful in that regard, if Bastila were unconscious or otherwise incapacitated-

Bastila as someone's property. Carth didn't know her well, but the idea was disquieting. Slavery was a pervasive reality in the Outer Rim but Carth couldn't quite grasp it. To him Bastila's situation felt more like rescuing a POW than a piece of furniture (that was how Sphene put it, having ones value measured as a thing and she was right Carth couldn't imagine it). But that was how the gangsters would likely view Bastila and thus they may treat her differently.

How did people treat slaves? Especially a 'trophy' one like Bastila? Carth had no idea. But Sphene might, and that was not a conversation Carth wanted to have. Sphene was prickly most of the time, though she seemed to have wound down. She was laughing and apparently having an awfully good time for someone who'd been strangled and was – he hopped – racking in some credits so they could re-supply.

"Honey, she's not going to notice you way over here. But I'm better company than blackie there anyway." The brunette that apparently decided Carth needed 'company' settled herself on the barstool to his right, ruining Carth's line of sight of Sphene. The brunette had a Tarisian noble accent (how sounding bored managed to turn itself into a regional accent Carth wasn't sure) and was, if the smell was anything to go by, a few cups into the local ale. "Now, how 'bout you get me a glass and we'll talk about you a bit hmm?"

"I'm too broke to pay for you." Carth said flatly, and hoped that would be the end of it. If she were hoping to flirt free drinks out of him she was out of luck.

"Tut." She twirled some of her hair. Carth began to doubt she was really interested in the alcohol. "Blackie cleaned you out? That it?"

If Carth were a Jedi, he'd say he felt a 'tremor in the force.' Or however Jedi said it. He leaned back slightly and eyed the brunette. "Maybe." If she weren't interested in getting drinks out of him, or attempting to bed him (Carth recalled those exrulitis posters) then what was her game? She wanted something from him, clearly.

"Now now handsome," 'handsome.' He'd never thought he'd be annoyed to have a pretty woman call him handsome, but she seemed to think flattery would get her somewhere, "no need to be shy about it. She's been cleaning people out for a while now. Some of us around here don't like that. It's not a friendly game if you walk away broke."

And there was the aim. Some rich punks, probably nobles if the way the brunette was dressed was any indication, were sore losers in a game of chance. (Though that Sphene won often enough for this to be an issue could warrant looking into. It was probable she was cheating, who was _that_ good at pazaak that they felt they could finance a rescue operation on it?) Or it could be a ploy of some sort, though it seemed straightforward. Simply telling the brunette that he wasn't interested wasn't going to make this go away.

It was hard to say how smart the brunette – and any of her probable friends if 'some of us' was any indication – but she/they were smart enough to try and get an offworlder who could be blamed to do their dirty work. Though maybe not observant enough to have noticed he'd entered the cantina with Sphene. Another potential ploy?

Carth wasn't sure how much trouble petulant, spoiled brats could make with daddy's money, but he didn't care to find out.

"Look, if you want to picking fights with the Sith-" Sphene wasn't a Sith but the brunette didn't know that. The yellow eyes lent that claim some semblance of credibility though, "you go ahead. But leave me out of it."

The brunette's eyes darted – just briefly – to the side, and Carth knew he'd hit home. "I should've known you didn't have any balls."

"Better than not having any brains, beautiful."

That artificially pretty face – the result of genetic engineering if Carth was any judge – scrunched up in a way that it wasn't really meant to do. Maybe she was trying to sneer, or look intimidating, but the planes of her face didn't work with it. She just looked like she had a bad case of gas. Or maybe exrulitis. "You think your clever foreigner?" Funny, how her voice conveyed her disdain better. But maybe that was just the local accent. "You don't know who you're dealing with-"

"Apparently it's a little girl who's not being used to hearing 'no.' I'm not taking the fall for whatever suicidal scheme you've got going on just because you lost a few games of pazaak." It didn't look like he'd be scaring her off doing something to Sphene, but at least they were warned now.

0000

It was a stupid question, really. But ever since the brunette from the cantina had talked with him, it'd been on his mind. But Sphene was humming happily to herself as they left the cantina. She counted her 'bounty' as they walked – the amount had shocked Carth, no wonder the nobles had been mad – and it seemed reasonable to ask when she was in a good mood.

"Does it really bother you when I call you beautiful?" He finally asked. Sphene's behavior and moods were a bit mercurial. She had a problem with it at first but later said she liked it. Carth wasn't sure if she changed her mind or…

Sphene raised her eyebrows and was quiet for a moment. "I like it when you mean it."

After the encounter with the brunette and how she'd tried to work him with insincere flattery, Carth knew what she meant.

0000

**Author's Notes**

The amount of time spent in the cantina and the clinic was unexpected, but with how many people liked the previous chapter, decided to try something similar to flesh out Carth and Taris a bit. Bit nervous about how much time Carth spent internal monologue-ing, but was trying to show his thought processes a bit more.

Reviews let me know how it worked!


	15. Taris Part 13

**Taris - Part 13. Carth.**

"Hey, Carth." Sphene was sitting on the floor of the apartment, an impressive assortment of grenades spread around her and an empty cup of some kind of smoothie to her right. (Some of the nutrients, none of the chewing.)

Carth had half expected them to be jumped at some point between the cantina, the weapons store, and the apartment. But the trip was uneventful, although he'd been concerned when Sphene had eyed an explosive called 'Komodo 3000.'

"Yeah, Sphene?"

"Why do you trust Mission more than me?" Now that was a loaded question. But Sphene didn't seem upset. He wasn't sure what exactly she was feeling – Tired? Calm? – but she wasn't mad.

"I don't trust Mission more than you." Carth wasn't sure where that question had come from. He could see 'why don't you trust me,' but where did Mission get involved?

"Really?"

Carth sighed and did not roll his eyes. Not that Sphene would have seen it – he was watching Upper Taris go by so that she wouldn't suspect him of being uneasy while she toyed with explosives. It hadn't worked apparently. "Really."

"So, you let the fourteen year old twi'lek who you met about three days ago go larking with her wookiee to try and find the princess while you take, whatever the hell I am at this point, but I've was on the Spire and- whatever. Look, while you take _me_ to see a doctor and then spend the rest of the time sitting on me? You see where I'm coming from here?"

"Sitting on you?" He hadn't sat on her once-

"Keeping me on a leash."

"I'm not doing that."

"Really?" Her tone was dry. Sarcasm in action. "Because the fact that you walked me to the clinic, hovered outside the door, and then followed me to the cantina says otherwise. Even though you had that brown haired girlie trying to get into your pants."

"She wasn't trying to- look, that's not what she was after."

"Oh really?"

"She wanted me to help in some plan to get you to cough up all the money you got from pazaak."

There was a long pause. "And you didn't mention this earlier because?"

"Because I thought you'd be used to that sort of thing and would keep an eye out for yourself." That was true. Somewhere in Carth's subconscious he'd combined Sphene's winning streak at pazaak with her scoundrel background and the fact that she wasn't missing any fingers to equal that she was good at not getting shot or captured as a matter of self preservation.

"Well, that's right." Another pause. Carth turned to look at her. Sphene had been watching his back, her brow furrowed slightly. "Then why'd you keep following me around like you were babysitting me or something?"

Carth was somewhat surprised that he didn't know the answer. Just that making sure she… what, kept out of trouble? It'd seemed like the thing to do. They didn't have communicators but meeting back at the apartment wouldn't have been hard, and Carth would've been able to do some independent snooping while Sphene played cards. 'Why not' didn't cover it. "I'm not babysitting you." Sphene didn't need a babysitter. A keeper, maybe, but Carth wasn't volunteering for that job. "But we're on a hostile world, crawling with Sith, and you're injured. Don't mind me if I want to make sure you're ok." That wasn't all of it, but his brain wasn't coughing up anything more relevant. And she was important somehow. The Jedi wanted her for something and…

Something about it was suspicious. But Carth was convinced Sphene didn't know a thing about it, from her behavior.

"Oh." Sphene blinked for a few moments. "Ok then. Well, thanks. But you still don't trust me do you?"

And they were back to that again. "No, I don't. I don't trust anyone. You shouldn't either."

"Not even you?" She asked dryly.

"Not even me. Don't trust me, or Bastila, or anyone else."

"… you've got to be kidding."

"I'm not."

She stared. Carth stared back. After a few moments he wondered if this were a contest and whoever blinked first lost.

She lost. "Ok, seriously, what is your damage Carth?"

"… we should be working on a plan to rescue Bastila, and you want to talk about my personal history?"

"Wasn't aware that I get to be involved in the plan making, but we'll get to that later. What's your damage Carth?"

"Why is whether or not I trust you so important?" He thought they were past this, he really did. After that 'talk' in the cantina a day ago – they both needed to get some sleep, really – he believed that had been the end of it. But the only thing that seemed to have changed was she was holding her temper for the moment.

"Because I want to trust you and you sure as hell don't make it easy. It's damn hard to work with someone who you keep expecting will shoot you in the back if you so much as have a suspicious twitch."

For once, that was somewhat along the lines of what he expected. "I'm not _that_ bad."

"I half thought you were gonna shoot the doc Carth." She raised an eyebrow.

Carth sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, it's not about-"

"Yeah yeah, I've heard what it's not about, I wanna know what it _is_ about." The way she narrowed her eyes and jutted her chin out let Carth know she was not going to drop it. That and even though she hadn't started annoyed, she was heading there.

"Fine. But we're not talking about this again."

Sphene stared at him silently for a few moments, before lifting her chin slightly in Carth's direction. A 'go ahead/spit it out' gesture.

Carth tried not to grit his teeth, and his jaw didn't want to agree with him but he managed to keep talking. "During the early stages of the Mandalorian Wars, we were getting slaughtered. The Jedi Council were sitting on Coruscant and talking a lot about 'observing the threat' and not doing much of anything-"

"I know this already." Sphene said.

"I'm working up to it." Silence. Carth had to find his place. "So millions were dieing. And then Revan came. Practically left the order, and brought a lot of Jedi followed him. He saved us all and then turned on us just as fast, once it was over. Not just Revan… it was a bit like how he rallied all these people during the Mandalorian Wars too. When Revan… betrayed the Republic, turned on us when we were weakest, the people he gathered to him did too. People who were otherwise good men and women, wouldn't suspect them of it, just … it was like they woke up one morning and went 'hey, I think I'll slaughter the people I spent the better part of a decade trying to protect.' And Revan… he was the best. If you can't trust the best of the Jedi, who can you trust?"

Sphene stared at him for a few moments. "That's it?"

"What?"

"That's it? The reason you're acting like an oversensitive teenager is because people you never met decided to turn against the Republic? I call bullshit. How stupid do you think I am?" Sphene snapped.

"I don't think you're stupid. I knew some of the people who joined Revan and Malak when they turned on the Republic. People who bombed Telos and... and killed my wife, my son, my sister, my parents. My _mentor_, Saul Karanth, killed them." Carth wanted to stop talking, but damnit she wanted to know and he couldn't stop the words even if he wanted to. They just kept coming out. As if once he started talking, he couldn't stop. "And it was so, so stupid! I could've stopped it. Saul approached me talking about how the Republic was weak and how I should think about my own survival. Looking back, it's obvious he was trying to recruit me to the Sith, but I didn't catch it and he killed my family. There were signs, everywhere, that he was turning on us. My mentor, my father figure, killed my family because I didn't see – I refused to see.

"You said I don't know, about what you went through and I shouldn't judge. Well, you don't know either now stop _pushing_ me about it."

Sphene's eyes had gotten very wide, and her mouth hung open in a little 'o.' Under other circumstances the cliché might've been funny. After a few moments she noticed and closed her mouth. For once she seemed out of questions.

Carth felt a little sick, thinking about it. Saul had known his family was on Telos. Saul had met Morgana and Dustil in person, wrote to them, and had jokingly made sure to remind Carth of important dates (birthdays anniversaries really son I'm surprised Morgana tolerated this). Saul's nephew had nearly married Regina, Carth's sister, before Regina had gotten cold feet and called it off. Saul knew they lived on Telos, knew where their house was. Dustil was practically Saul's own grandson, since Saul had no children of his own. (Saul had practically admitted to that once.) Carth privately suspected that Telos had been a potshot Saul had taken at him for saying 'no.' Telos had no significant military outposts.

Someone, somewhere, once said that 'talking about it' helped. In Carth's experience, it really didn't. But Sphene had been right about one thing: 'sorry' didn't help either and after hearing it so many times, he was glad she didn't say it.

"You couldn't have seen it coming, Carth." She said quietly.

"I should have-"

"You trusted someone who had proven to be reliable in the past. The fault lies in him, not in you for not being suspicious of him."

He wanted to believe her. But if he'd been just a little more alert, maybe Morgana and Dustil would be alive. Maybe his mother would have died of old age. Maybe Regina would've provided nieces or nephews for Dustil to play with. Maybe Malak wouldn't have made it this far. Maybe so many others wouldn't have followed Saul to Revan and Malak's side when they'd returned. So many maybes. "We're done talking about this Sphene."

"Fine." She broke eye contact – it should've have startled Carth, but it did – and looked down at all the grenades and various pieces of gun she had spread about her. "I'm going to bed."

Neither of them said anything else. Sphene put away her toys, and Carth watched but didn't see Upper Taris go by long after she fell asleep and began to twitch and whimper and the sound overlaid his memories of Morgana's dieing gasps.

0000

Carth had long ago learned how to make himself sleep, even on a troubled mind. Being that he often had a troubled mind, it was a useful trick. Not that he slept for long. For once, he and Sphene woke up around the same time, thanks to a room-shaking boom-crack of thunder. For a few moments, Carth almost swore he was back on Dxun, save he was far too dry and there was a distinct lack of insects and mud. Once the echo faded Carth could hear Sphene swearing in a tongue he didn't recognize. At least, he assumed she was swearing – he'd never heard anyone use that tone for anything else.

Whether or not his… companion was feeling talkative was moot point since after that initial boom, the thunder continued, causing the furniture to vibrate and flashes of light to appear in the curtain cracks. What conversation they managed between the thunder was limited to the awkward arrangement of all the things Sphene wanted to bring, but couldn't fit under the Sith armor without bulging. Carth wound up stuffing her vest under his own armor, since the spare they'd left hidden in the Lower City "didn't have enough pockets," while Sphene hid her grenades. Not that Carth thought the Sith had anything against their people using explosives, but the amount – and variety – Sphene preferred was definitely nonstandard and would attract attention.

Unfortunately, it wasn't Sphene's unusual amount of weaponry that had Carth standing at the Sith checkpoint, in Sith armor, in the rain.

"Stop right there. Where's your I.D.?" The guards asked, stepping in front of them and gesturing to a second guard in the small both that controlled the gun turrets.

"Left it in my other armor." Sphene quipped. Carth was glad for the helmet – for once – since no one could see his face. What was she _thinking_?

"Haha, very funny." Oh look, sarcasm. "You're not getting out of patrol duty that easy. Rank and number soldier. Both of you."

Carth couldn't say for certain how they managed to coordinate it. But in that half second Carth noticed that the gun turrets were placed far too close to the wall and thus couldn't swivel enough to aim _at_ the elevators and Sphene tilted her head just a faction to the right.

Carth shot the guard in the face. Sphene snatched the datapad from the dead guards hands before his body had even hit the ground and plugged it into the elevator controls. Just as Carth heard more guards yelling behind them, the elevator doors wooshed open, and dragged Sphene in after him – she'd tried to yank the datapad from the elevator control and was nearly shot as one of the guards in the control booth came out.

The doors closed, cutting off the yelling and blaster fire and the elevator hummed to life. Carth's head swam slightly. Sphene pulled the control panel off the inside wall and began messing with the wires. Carth didn't ask what she was doing – she was trying to make sure that the elevator wasn't frozen by any Sith with outside elevator controls.

Getting off was going to be a lot harder than getting in. But after a few moments of mentally review this likely very _stupid_ chain of action, Carth concluded it made sense and his gut reaction had been correct. At some point there'd been a change in checkpoint protocols, or they'd gotten a guard who was actually doing his job _right_. Possibly trying to bluff their way past or try to turn back would prove they weren't who they said they were and put them right in the line of fire of the very large turret guns and between the other guards.

This had bought them time, but not by much.

Thinking of the similar turret guns at the exit below, Carth heard Sphene mutter, "Knew I shoulda got the Komodo 3000."

0000

**Bastila.**

Somewhere in the dark, locked away, chained, and numb from the inhibitor collar, Bastila felt the ripples in the force, felt the distress in her bond. So she turned inside, to that part of herself she didn't completely understand, the part that made her battle meditation so very useful, and reached out.

0000

**Author's Notes**

I for one, hated Carth's line "You wouldn't understand." I personally blame that particular line for all the flak he gets about being a 'whiner.' So it got replaced. Think it worked out well. Am a bit concerned that the rest of it skirted narm territory though.

Next update is going to run late, due to finals.


	16. Taris Part 14

**Taris - Part 14. Zaalbar.**

Zaalbar and Mission would not be able to stay at Trish's place, because Trish was dead. Zaalbar had smelled the blood and rot long before they reached Trish's door, but Mission had insisted on making sure. That they had found Trish in separate corners of her own home meant they would not be staying for the night. That would be asking for a curse from the ancestors, to sleep in a place of murder.

There was no way of telling what happened, the bloodsmell and rot had enough time to overwhelm the smell of who had done this. Trish had a boyfriend, it could have been him, or it could have been the Sith, or the Asps – they shared a border with the Beks – or maybe rakghouls had managed to come up from the Undercity. Zaalbar thought rakghouls were unlikely, since they were not known for their ability to open doors and Trish would have shown some signs of being eaten. The Asps were equally unlikely, for there were none of the gang symbols. But any number of things could have killed Trish this way.

Zaalbar helped Mission gather the pieces of Trish that weren't shredded – hunks of meat, intestine, bone, they never found Trish's head – because Trish was Mission's friend, insofar that Mission made friends with everyone. At one point Trish might've been Mission's 'wingman' if Mission hadn't met Zaalbar first, if things had been different.

When they were done, Trish was in a pile in the center of the room, Mission was red eyed and purple-splotched, and Zaalbar gave her the dignity of not noticing when she sniffled and not hearing when she cried. Trish did not, to Zaalbar's knowledge, have any living family to guide her spirit to her ancestors, and she would need guidance with her body so thoroughly desecrated. There were no trees to hang her from or roots to bury her in. Indeed, there was no _earth_ to bury her unless they could bundle Trish up and take her to the Undercity where the rakghouls were likely to dig her up.

"I guess…" Mission made a noise in the back of her throat, like a cough. "I guess we should call resyc. Before she starts to smell too bad."

Did Zaalbar owe it to this strange woman, to guide her? _Could_ he? He was not her clan, what did he know of her ancestors? Mission hiccupped, and Zaalbar realized she was watching him for, waiting for something. She expected him to do something. Although Mission knew more of Taris and had guided him through it, Zaalbar was still her elder.

Friends were the family one chooses, Mission had said once. An odd custom, but so few 'spacers' had family. In this case, it meant Trish was family, and as the oldest present, it fell to Zaalbar to guide the dead. Even if Zaalber didn't know Trish. Even though Zaalbar wasn't aware of any precedent for this.

"[She will receive proper rites.]" Zaalbar reassured Mission. Or as proper as he could give a stranger. So much was wrong here, so much unclean. But he was a madclaw, he was hardly in a position to be judgmental.

Mission watched him for a moment, then smiled weakly. "Thanks Big Z. I think… she'd like that. Trish was good people. That someone would care enough before…"

Before the harvesters of the dead – 'resyc' – reduced what remained of Trish into the most basic of her physical components. Water, vitamins, trace metals, calcium.

Zaalbar kneeled beside where Trish's head might've been. So much was wrong here, that Trish had no clan or blood kin to do this for her. That she may never be avenged on what had happened to her. That she had no children to sing her name to their children. No one to remember her, except Mission and himself. Did Trish even deserve this? Had she done anything to make herself worthy?

Mission knew better than Zaalbar did. Not for the first time, he trusted Mission's judgment. "[Rest, sister. About your bed we shall build a haven…]"

Friends were the family one choose, after all. Perhaps one day, Mission's children would do the same for him. If his own ancestors would not accept him, perhaps hers would.

0000

The Hidden Bek base was the heart of their village, and Zaalbar always found it odd that the Beks allowed outsiders such as Mission and himself access to it. True, Mission's brother Griff had been a Hidden Bek (what exactly was a 'Bek' and why was it hidden?) but from what Zaalbar had overheard, Griff was not a well honored member. Yet Mission did not suffer from her brother's weak reputation.

Indeed, the majority of the Beks greeted Mission warmly, and expressed some concern. After all, Mission and Zaalbar had yet to remove Trish's blood from themselves.

"Hey, Mission!" One of the Beks Zaalbar didn't recognize – twi'lek males looked vaguely the same to him, combined with the same clan-smell – moved to Mission in a manner short of a run, but stopped a respectful distance away.

"What is it Lys?" Mission was tired, and sad. And still bloody. But it was up to her if she wanted to deal with Lys, or if she wanted Zaalbar to run him off.

"Gadon wants to see you, like, yesterday. Didn't tell me why."

Normally, this would have been exciting news to Mission. But she only blinked slowly. "Well, ok then."

Lys tilted his head to one side. "You look down Mission."

"Trish is dead."

"Oh. Well, shit."

There was a pause Zaalbar understood to be 'awkward.'

"Is Gadon in right now?"

"Yeah. Sure." Lys pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of Gadon's office. "Zaedra's spitting nails though."

"Thanks Lys. Stay alive."

"You too kid."

Mission twitched – her head tilted to one side momentarily, and the tip of her right lekku curled – from being called 'kid', but didn't call Lys on it.

They were supposed to be resting, but Mission turned their path to Gadon's office, and Zaalbar followed. The agitation that had overtaken the Beks' base earlier had not died down. The halls were full of swarming Beks, most rushing, others gathered in small groups, talking quickly with their mouths and their eyes and their hands. Some acknowledged Mission as she passed, and a few even nodded to Zaalbar.

Lys' observation that Zaedra was 'spitting nails' was likely an understatement, since even over the din of the rest of the base Zaalbar could hear her muffled ranting several feet away from the door.

Mission greeted the door guards, one of which rapped a complicated series of knocks on the door. Zaedra threw the door open, her blaster aimed and ready, as was customary whenever anyone attempted to approach the Bek leader.

Zaedra's scowl deepened. "Mission."

Mission didn't bother affecting the perky display that Zaalbar knew annoyed Zaedra. "Hey Zaedra. I heard Gadon wanted to talk?"

Zaedra nodded and let them in a few paces – enough for the doors to close behind them – but kept her gun trained on them. "That's enough."

This was unusual. Zaalbar wasn't getting any useful cues from Mission either, who seemed as confused by Zaedra's behavior as he was. Certainly, Zaedra didn't like Mission, but she had never aimed her blaster more than necessary and Gadon normally put a stop to it quickly enough. But Gadon 'watched' silently from his desk.

"Gadon?" Mission asked.

But it was Zaedra who spoke. "Mission, would you care to explain why you sponsored a _Sith_ into our base?"

"What? I wouldn't do that!"

"[Mission, I believe Zaedra is speaking of Sphene.]" Yellow eyes were not normal for humans. It was probable that Sphene had been mistaken for one.

"No way Big Z, Sphene's not a Sith."

"Then what is she?" Zaedra snapped. "You got those humans to help you retrieve Zaalbar, what did you offer them in return? A look into our base? Our defenses? You were seen escorting two Sith in uniform to the elevators!"

"No! I wouldn't betray the Beks like that!" Mission's voice cracked slightly.

Gadon remained silent, something Zaalbar found disturbing. Gadon had always been warm to Mission in the past.

"Then what does she want?"

"I don't know if it's for me to say." Mission said weakly.

"[Then I will say it. Mission, translate for me.]" Zaalbar did not know Sphene well. But she held his life debt and he would not let her be defamed in such a manner. Zaalbar was not familiar with the intricacies of Spacer 'honor,' but he understood enough that reputation – good or ill – could make or break a person. Many people died over issues of reputation.

"Sure Big Z."

"[Sphene is not a Sith. We have not seen her hold with their values or with their tactics. She has shown great honor, in aiding us with little reason and freeing slaves captured by Gammorean hunters-]"

Mission stopped translating to interject, "You can ask Chaku about-"

"[Mission, you are interrupting.]"

"Sorry Big Z. Um, keep going."

"[The Sith you saw us escorting were disguises, to allow them to go from the Upper City to the Lower City untroubled. Sphene is not a Sith, nor is Carth.]"

"Disguises? Like her yellow eyes are a disguise?" Zaedra raised her brows skeptically. "I'd expect Mission to believe this but you Zaalbar-"

"Zaedra, that is enough." Gadon finally spoke.

Zaedra looked over her shoulder to him and lowered her blaster. "But-"

"I think I have an idea of what's going on." Gadon said.

"You do?" Mission asked uneasily. She tucked her chin down and wrapped her left lekku around her hand.

Gadon nodded. "I can see why it's not yours to discuss. These two new friends of yours are skilled, yes?"

"Well, they helped me break Zaalbar out. I'd say so."

"Then when they are next here, tell them I have a proposition for them. A mutually beneficial one, since they seem fond of freeing slaves."

"Kay. Um, is it ok if me and Big Z stay here for a while? It's not nice outside."

"You two may use Tienchek's rooms. He doesn't need them anymore."

Mission sighed and looked down. "Thanks Gadon."

"Be safe, Mission."

Zaedra watched them go with narrowed eyes and a tight mouth.

Once they were out of the immediate hearing range of the guards, Zaalbar asked, "[Are you well, Mission?]"

"I'm just… tired, Big Z." Flakes of green blood fell as she flexed her hands and let go of her lekku. "Lets get cleaned up and get some sleep. Don't have long."

0000

**Author's Notes**

Phew! Sorry about the brevity of the chapter, but life intervenes. Good news being finals are over. Remember folks, reviews light fires under the author's tail!


	17. Taris Part 15

**Taris - Part 15.**

**Canderous**.

Canderous scowled at the 'battle' that was taking place, only half listening to the Sith frequency he was tuned into (something about a security breach on the upper levels). The earbuds were a poor substitute for the speakers in every Mandalorian's helmet, but he didn't have his helmet anymore. He did have his stealth generator though, which allowed him to watch the going ons of the Lower City without any trouble. Usually it was a boring job, something Davik had him doing when he wasn't running shakedowns of the locals.

His fingers itched for his rifle; the battle was a pathetic sight. The Sith and the Black Vulcars reached a stalemate that promised to go on until one side got bored and gave up. The Black Vulcars raced in circles on their swoop bikes, shooting at the Sith who had yet to emerge from behind the short walls and make themselves easy targets. The Sith weren't good enough shots to hit the fast moving Vulcars except on accident – even with the four gun turrets that were still operational - and it hadn't yet occurred to a single Black Vulcar to use a grenade against a stationary target. Both were locked in by their respective weaknesses, rather than the strength of their opponent. It was a lot of noise, especially with the guttering choke of Vulcar swoop bikes in the mix, but very little was getting done.

To think, barely six years ago, his people had lost to those who'd become the Sith. If Canderous were inclined to make himself known – and he wasn't, soothing his stinging pride was not the point of his current activities – he'd shoot both the Sith and the Black Vulcars. The Black Vulcars were forgetting their place. They'd always been an uppity gang, but with Brejik acting as the 'brains,' they'd gained a full blown case of 'delusions of grandeur.'

There wouldn't have been any honor against such weak opponents, but with the clans broken, honor was meaning less and less.

The elevator doors behind the Sith defenses opened. There were only two 'Sith' inside – supposedly the source of the security breach topside - and they rapidly gestured back and fourth, before blasterfire from the Vulcars made them take cover in the shallow enclave of the elevator. After a few moments of this, one of the soldiers in the elevator threw something into the tunnel the Vulcars were using. The Vulcars scattered briefly, but when the little gray ball failed to do anything interesting for nearly a full thirty seconds, the Vuclars resumed their harassment of the Sith.

And it _still_ didn't occur to a single one of them to throw a grenade. Maybe they didn't have any. No decent warrior would go anywhere without at least two or three frag grenades, but none of the combatants showed any sign of being decent-

The little gray ball turned white. For nearly two minutes afterwards Canderous couldn't see a damn thing from the spots in his eyes, though he heard – and felt in his bones – the sonic grenade that went off shortly after the flash grenade and the screech of crashing swoop bikes.

Not for the first time he resented the loss of his helmet, which would've prevented such a trick from working.

Canderous' vision cleared enough to see the two 'Sith' from the elevator take off down the tunnel and eventually vanish around a bend.

Most of the remaining Sith guards had been shot – seemingly in the back - and most of the Vulcars were crushed beneath their own bikes, though there were one or two survivors with broken bones. The automatic gun turrets continued firing at the downed bikes. One of the bikes had crashed into the barricade the Sith had set up, crushing both the Sith behind it _and_ the Vulcar riding it. That particular pile up burned merrily, and in the enclosed space of the Lower City the smoke would linger for weeks.

All in all, not bad. Two grenades and a few blaster shots was all it should've taken to do this, and the two from the elevator had done it within moments. That was a level of skill not typically found in Sith grunts, but then it was probable those two weren't Sith. Not that Sith were known to place any real value on loyalty, but the alert on the Sith frequency meant they were either deserters who'd yet to shed the uniform, or the uniform had been a failed disguise.

It took a spectacularly stupid kind of deserter to try and run from the inside of a military blockade. So that meant Canderous had just seen two infiltrators with business in the Lower City.

"Canderous," his radio cackled at him. "What the hell just happened over there?"

"Fight's over." Some fight. No one had really 'won' that one. Why had the Vulcar's attacked the guard post? "Nothing worth reporting." Davik already knew Brejik was getting too big for his guns, and it wouldn't be the first time Canderous had seen a punk with no brains get put down. Brejik was too prone to break contract for any organization he built to last long.

Davik was breaking contract too, lately. Enough that Canderous felt that alerting Davik to two infiltrators wasn't what he was (not) getting paid for. Brejik was a pathetic creature, but Davik was forgetting his basics and that'd kill him sooner than later. Canderous had no intention of going down with a man who couldn't keep contract.

"Canderous?"

"Stop bothering me Nikolai and mind your own damn business. Nothing to report."

He'd have to keep his ears to the ground for two offworlders in the Lower City. If they could punch through Sith security, they might be the kind of people he'd want to have a talk with. And the kind of people worth keeping off Davik's radar until it suited Canderous to do otherwise. Davik had eyes in the Undercity, but not enough to keep a lid on things if the gangs turned against him.

Now that was an interesting idea.

0000

**Mission**.

The closet of a room that used to be Tienchek's was quiet and dark, so Mission and Zaalbar slept well. But a tension Mission couldn't place ran through the Beks, and Mission carried it with her on the way to Jayvar's cantina. Though Mission hoped to escape that sense of desperation, that feeling of _waiting_ at Jayvar's, it persisted. In fact, the other regulars seemed to have the same mood. The music was more discordant as usual, the talk quieter, the pazaak tables more subdued with lower bets and a distinct unwillingness to draw too close to twenty. The smoke seemed thinner, the lights brighter.

Trish usually worked this shift. In her usual place was a rodian Mission didn't recognize. Jayvar was gone too.

Carth and Sphene weren't there yet. Much longer, and they'd be late. Carth didn't seem the type to be late.

Mission didn't have to fight a crowd like she usually did, so it was easy to take stools closest to where the Beks congregated. Even though most of them weren't wearing their signals, Mission knew them by sight, just as she knew everyone by sight.

"[This is not normal.]" Even Zaalbar was picking up the mood that seemed to cover the Lower City. That wasn't good.

"I know." Mission felt exposed, and not even Zaalbar's powerful bulk backing her up and her own hidden vibroblade weren't easing her scoundrel sense. She wanted to play it cool, but her lekku were curling up as if they were trying to crawl back into her head. "Izkil!" Mission waved to the bartender. "The usual, you know."

"_I'm_ _still not serving you the na'rayya._" Izkil said calmly. This was a game they played every time Mission came in.

"Oh c'mon, I'm old enough now!"

"_You will be old enough when your lekku grow another three inches._"

Mission stuck her tongue out at him. "Fine, be that way. That's coming out of your tip mister. Give me the meat on a stick. Big Z wants everything but he's getting meat on a stick too."

Zaalbar rar-ed mournfully.

After a moment, Mission leaned forward on the bar and asked quietly, "You have any idea what's got everyone so quiet?"

"_I cannot say for certain_." Izkil entered Mission's order into the bar computer. The tips of his lekku twitched nervously. "_But even with the Tarisian nobles, we are not so used to being contained like this. … but that seems a thin reason. Something more is happening but I don't know what._"

Mission nodded and settled back on her stool, and chattered more loudly about normal things: Izkil's kids, how he wouldn't let her have the na'rayya, Big Z's breath and grooming habits. She wanted desperately to talk about the opening for the swoop races, but with the Vulcar's prize and the stolen accelerator, it was a touchy subject.

And _finally_ Carth and Sphene showed up. Sphene had a new vest - which fit better than the enormous jacket she'd worn last time – and was a little less purple around the neck, and Carth had a backpack, but otherwise nothing had changed.

"Took you guys long enough! We've been waiting here _forever_!"

"Had a bit of trouble getting back here." Sphene shrugged and raised an eyebrow at Carth in a, '_Really, Flyboy?_' gesture.

Both of Carth's eyebrows went up in reply. '_What of it?_' Carth of course, was always watching his surroundings, so Mission wasn't surprised when he asked, "Is something going on here, Mission?"

"I don't know. The Beks are wound up a bit too. I would've hung out and asked them except I had to meet a couple people here and I didn't want to be _late_." It suddenly hit Mission, what else was wrong with the cantina, why it was so quiet.

The Asps were gone. There were usually a number of members from different gangs, staking their claims in different parts of the cantina. But Mission couldn't sight a single Asp member and their usual spot was being encroach on by the more unaffiliated drunkards.

"We'll talk about the why's and how's of what we've been up to later." Sphene rolled her shoulders, from front to back. Carth might've noticed the nerves of the Lower City, but like any proper scoundrel Sphene seemed to feel it. "Lets just grab some grub and get out of here."

Mission remembered her 'talk' with Zaedra. Mission had never been uncomfortable with the idea that one of the Beks could be watching her while within their territory, but now it left a metallic taste in her mouth. Mission didn't want the Beks spying on her or her talks with Sphene and Carth, even though Mission doubted either would say anything incriminating. Mission didn't owe the Beks explicitly – there was no agreement, no contract – but there'd always been implicit that when Mission was 'old enough' she would become official.

She wanted to prove to Sphene that she was loyal. But Mission didn't want to flirt with disloyalty to the Beks, to let Sphene and Carth understand her unease and that they were being _watched_, to do it.

"Sounds good. I got someone who wants to talk to you guys anyway. Sooner the better probably."

"You've been talking to people about us, Blue?" Sphene gave Mission a long stare. The yellow eyes were really disconcerting.

"Eh, not exactly. It's more like a, um…"

Carth watched Sphene, and Sphene watched Mission. Mission wasn't certain who had her best interests in mind anymore. "It wasn't like that." Mission insisted. "I'll explain more later, but-"

"[Gaddon wishes to speak with you both. He said he had a 'proposition.']" Zaalbar said mildly.

Mission nearly hugged Zaalbar for clearing that up. So few people spoke Wookiee that the odds of anyone understanding were poor.

"Huh. That's interesting." Sphene leaned forward on her elbows for a moment.

"What is?" Carth asked.

"I'm afraid I'm going with Mission on this one. We'll all have to talk somewhere a little more private. Some of us," Sphene smiled a little, "don't usually discuss sensitive stuff in the cantina."

"Believe me sister, I usually don't."

0000

**Authors Notes**

Remember folks, reviews! Revieeeews. Om nom. And critiques. If something bothered you, or something made you extremely happy, or if the chapter was just 'blah,' let me know!


	18. Taris Part 16

**Taris - Part 16. Carth.**

Carth recognized this tension. It was that sense of waiting, of calm before the storm. It had been in the air of Serroco before the Mandalorians had melted the cities down, it hovered over Perseus V for weeks the plains went up in flames. That warning tension had kept Carth in the fleet even after Malachor V, even after the Mandalorians were defeated and Morgana demanded that he _come home_. (It failed to warn him of Saul's betrayal, or maybe Carth hadn't listened well enough.)

Their walk was quiet, and the unease that had settled over the Lower City like smoke affected the group – though Carth was relieved that it wasn't making any of the others _too_ high strung. Zaalbar sniffed the air and Mission kept close to him, one hand on the hilt of the vibroblade that was normally concealed by her vest and her lekku nearly curled up to the base of her head. Sphene walked lighter than usual, as if unwilling to keep her feet on the ground, and her braid was damn distracting with how it twitched like a nervous tail.

None of them were soldiers. Sphene might have recognized the feeling – she was old enough to have pulled through more than a few disasters and not loose her head through them, and spacers were notorious for scenting danger and avoiding it. Mission didn't have the experience to pinpoint _what_ was wrong yet, only that something was up. Carth had no idea what Zaalbar thought of any of this.

Mission eventually led them to an 'abandoned' apartment complex and Carth wasn't so sure counted as private. Not that he and Sphene hadn't had their share of conversations in the tunnels of the Lower City, but he didn't think the dilapidated apartments were much better. Especially with the lack of potential escape routes. Carth was certain they'd shaken any potential Sith pursuit – he'd shot those that had survived the crashes Sphene caused with her grenades – but he didn't like taking chances. Not to mention the potential trouble of any squatters or space knew who else might be around just out of eyesight – but not earshot.

"It's not gonna get much better than this." Mission gestured expansively down the dimly lit hall. Only a single guttering light was on, the others broken with wires dangling from the ceiling.

"You sure this is a good spot, Mission?" Sphene sounded skeptical, and for once Carth agreed with her.

"Not gonna get much better." Mission repeated. "Lots of people think this is haunted anyway, so they don't come around unless they're _really_ desperate."

"Can't imagine why." Carth commented dryly. He kept an eye to the south as Zaalbar and Sphene took point at the northern end of the hallway. Mission leaned against the wall in between them.

Zaalbar roared something.

Sphene nodded. "Thanks Zaalbar."

"What was that?" Carth asked.

"Zaalbar doesn't smell anyone in the area. Seems like no one's been here for a while."

Zaalbar roared again. Carth assumed that was an affirmative.

"Right. Mission, I'm guessing you two didn't have any luck in finding leads on Bastila." Might as well get that out of the way first.

Mission shook her head and tugged on one of her lekku, trying to straighten it back out. "No Republics at any of the spots I checked out. They might be keeping her at the main base – better security – but… I kinda doubt it."

Because the Vulcars had a tendency to break their toys. "That's alright. I didn't expect any different." Carth glanced over to Sphene briefly. She was still fidgeting with vest pockets that kept her grenades in place. "You have any ideas about what the Vulcars might put Bastila? How they'd treat a high priced slave?"

Sphene's shoulders stiffened. "Depends on how pricy they think Bastila – or whoever this is – is. If popular opinion is that sticking her on a plate for the masses will tip the power balance in favor of the Vulcars… I don't know Carth, I was never around the pricier bodies. Mission, do the Vulcars _usually_ dabble in slave trade?"

"Dabble nothing, it's one of their major sources of income." Mission said.

"Wonderful." Sphene sighed. "They'll keep Bastila separated from the other slaves then. If they think she might be dangerous, a neural collar and maybe some drugs on top of that. If they're not working her they'll probably keep her locked up, top notch security, or whatever that passes for around here. We'd have to find her then case the place first. But that's out."

"Um, about that…" Mission said, nervously. "Gadon did say he wanted to talk to you guys." Mission cringed when Sphene's eyes narrowed at her, and quickly added, "What happened with the Gammoreans, well, word's spread. People know it was you guys. Or at least what you look like. Gadon said, um, that if you guys were interested in freeing slaves he had an offer for you."

That wasn't good. "What kind of word Mission?" Carth tried to be calm about it – Sphene was scaring Mission, which was a bit odd to see since Sphene was a few inches smaller than Mission was. Dustil was more inclined to lie if he thought his dad was mad about something he'd done, which at times only made things worse. Mission was about the right age, and dealing with adults who were, strangers to her. She was a tough, street savvy kid, but still a kid. "Any idea how people found out?" Don't lay the blame on her directly just yet.

If the look Mission gave him was any indication, Carth had used the right words, even if he wasn't sure why. "Um, good mostly. Chaku says 'thanks' for letting her girl out."

That explained a few things. The people Sphene had freed – some of them at least – had made it back to the Lower City. "Mission, you think this is worth checking out? Talking to Gadon?"

Mission nodded so hard her free lekku bounced. "Gadon's not like Brejik. He keeps his contracts and so do the rest of the Beks."

Sphene clicked her teeth. "They have a rep for that? Not just you talking pretty Mission?"

"Yeah. I mean, they had to. They pretty much ran things down here for ages."

"Mission, just because they ran things doesn't mean they'll keep their word." Carth loved the Republic – it was pretty much his first love – but that didn't mean it didn't have its share of corrupt politicians. Not to mention Saul.

Sphene seemed to forget to give Mission the evil eye for a moment, and they _both_ stared at Carth. Mission's mouth hung open a little. Even Zaalbar made a low rumble.

"What?" Carth asked.

"You did _not_ just say that." Mission's voice was incredulous.

Sphene shook her head. "Like a babe in the Kessel Run."

Just like that, the oppressive air seemed to evaporate. Unfortunately Carth got the feeling it was at his own expense. "Look, this isn't funny."

Sphene bit her lower lip. "It sure ain't, Flyboy. Just don't say that in public alright? The Beks'll shoot you if they hear that."

"Totally." Mission agreed.

"… are _either_ of you going to explain that?"

"I got this one Mission. Ok, seriously Carth. Spacer politics one-oh-one: reputation will make or break you, especially on how you keep contract. You keep your contract, folks know you'll pull through on your end of the deal. With gangs, you _gotta_ keep contract otherwise folks won't deal with you. Shakedowns only work so well, but, well, you get what I'm saying right?"

If 'keep contract' meant what Carth thought it meant – because Mission used that word the way she used 'tradition' – then Carth did see what Sphene was trying to say. This wasn't like the Republic where there were trade laws to enforce the upholding of trade agreements. Scoundrels – spacers, smugglers, gangsters – had to trust that whoever they made deals with would uphold their end of the bargain. That they would 'keep contract.' Get a reputation for _not_ doing that, and no one would deal with you. A gang could, theoretically, run on terrorizing those in their territory alone, but not before other gangs tore them apart, or they fell apart from within.

"I get it. So, Gadon… keeps contract." Carth wasn't pleased with the idea of working with gangsters. But right now his help was coming from a smuggler, a street rat, and… whatever Zaalbar happened to be. He couldn't be picky. "We'll talk to him, see what he wants and what he's offering. We need a plan B, preferably _before_ it comes down to trying to break Bastila out from the Swoop Race security."

An expression Carth couldn't read crossed Mission's face, then he remembered what Mission had said about the Swoop Races being 'tradition.' "So lets make sure it doesn't come to that. Move out everyone."

0000

"Hey, Sphene?"

"Yeah, Blue?"

"Where are you from?"

"Eh?" Sphene raised her eyebrows at Mission, who'd turned to look at Sphene from over her shoulder.

Mission was again at point as they walked the Lower City's tunnels, since she was the only person present who knew without a doubt which way to go. Carth kept to Sphene's left – every time Sphene was nearly shot, it always seemed to be from her left side - with Zaalbar watching their back. Carth tried to memorize the routes as they walked, but doubted he'd be able to find anything if he wound up off course. He still couldn't make any sense of the Bek's directions, though he felt he had an idea of the layout they used.

"Where are you from?" Mission repeated. "You have this accent sometimes that I don't recognize."

"I don't really remember." Sphene shrugged.

"Really? Nothing?" Mission seemed skeptical.

Carth had trouble believing that too, but he let Mission lead the conversation. He'd had enough of talking about the past for a while.

"I mean, I remember things about it – but I couldn't tell you how to get there or what it was called. I was quite a bit younger than you are now, and I got lost too. Technically, I guess."

Mission snorted, "Technically?"

"Well, are you really lost if you don't have a destination in mind in the first place?"

"Guess not. How come you did that though? Wasn't it home?"

"No. It was just a place I was from."

"But why'd you go?" Maybe it was a scoundrel trait. Sphene hadn't been afraid to ask Carth direct questions – often repeatedly – until he answered. Mission was doing the same thing. 'Why did you leave home?'

"Well, if we hadn't gotten to Zaalbar in time, he and I would have a lot more in common."

Mission was quiet for a moment. "Oh."

"It was a long time ago. It's over now."

"How'd you get away though?"

"Stole a freighter. Not nearly as interesting as it sounds."

There was a lot Sphene wasn't saying with that last sentence. Stealing a freighter wasn't simply a matter of getting the 'keys' from the owner. At least, not on hyper drive-equipped vessels, and that freighter would have had one, for Sphene to get 'lost' in space until she'd found civilization somewhere. Many were voice locked, or only operated with the correct sequencers – codes so complicated that most people used droids to deal with them.

"I find it hard to believe you got away with stealing a freighter when you were barely a teenager." Carth finally interjected.

"Oh, I said it wasn't interesting, not that it wasn't _hard_. I nearly starved my silly ass off 'cause I didn't check the logs for how long it'd take me to get anywhere or how much food was left in the hold. _Always_ make sure you're taking enough to eat with you for long trips, Mission."

Carth snapped back to paying closer attention to his surroundings when he heard the gutter-growl of swoop bikes echo down the hall. They were well into Vulcar territory at this point – if the layout of the gang symbols was any indication – and Mission was with them. But something still didn't feel right.

Zaalbar growled. Mission – and the rest of the group, they were all behind her – came to a stop, as Mission looked back to Zaalbar and bit her lip.

"You sure about that Big Z?"

Another growl.

"Son of a…" Sphene muttered.

"What is it?" It didn't sound good, and Carth was getting the feeling that not understanding wookiee was going to be annoying, and potentially dangerous.

"Those bikes aren't Beks. The engines sound wrong?." Sphene tilted her head at Mission, who nodded.

"Gadon always used a Tier 9 exhaust, so the rest of the Beks do. That sounds… well, I can't tell. Probably different Teirs on multiple bikes. Not the Vulcars – a lot of them use Tier 9 too cause they used to be Beks and those that don't use cheap knock offs so-"

Carth would wonder about how Mission could tell different gangs by the sounds their bikes made _later_. "Zaalbar, are they coming this way? How many?" The metal halls of the Lower City distorted the sound of the bikes. Carth had a rough idea of where the bikes were – somewhere behind their group – but not much else.

Zaalbar made a series of growls and huffs.

There was a long pause before Sphene explained, "Says he can't really tell where they're going, though more than three of them. He _thinks_ they'll probably hit around and go back for the borders of Bek territory." Sphene shook her head. "I don't think that's right though. We're pretty far into Bek grounds ain't we, Mission?"

Mission nodded.

"Mission, where's the closest internal structure?" Carth asked. This wasn't good.

"What?"

"Where can we take cover?"

"Not for another few blocks-"

"How many?"

"Four!" One block was fifty meters so that was two-hundred meters not counting the irregularities of the Lower City building.

Carth could see vague shapes down the hall now. He could hear them better than he could see them, but he'd seen this situation often enough: he'd been both the larger force outnumbering and the smaller whose best option was staying out of sight.

They were definitely _not_ out of sight.

"Then _run_." The distortion of the halls made it difficult to tell how close the swoop bikes were, or how quickly the bikes were gaining on their position. Their group was too small and too exposed to handle an open fight against gangsters on bikes. He and Sphene had gotten obscenely lucky with the Sith and the group of gangsters, but the terrain was not in their favor right now.

Mission nodded. "This way!"

They ran, but Mission and Sphene had a harder time of it. At seventy-five meters Mission tired, her pace slacking badly and Zaalbar scooped her up, not even breaking stride as he did so. Sphene had better stamina, but lacked the height to move as quickly as Carth or Zaalbar, and unlike Zaalbar, Carth couldn't simply pick her up and keep going. Carth was half tempted to grab Sphene by the arm and drag her, but that _never_ helped, no matter what the holovids showed. That would only slow them both down.

One-hundred meters, six way cross. It opened into one of the more accessible 'traffic' lanes that had been intended for use by things like swoop bikes and holocars.

Dr. Reyes probably included 'sprinting for your life' under 'strenuous activity,' Sphene was wheezing slightly but the sound of the – yes, approaching, quickly approaching – bikes behind them had Carth itching to just push Sphene ahead, as if that would make her go faster.

"Upper left!" Mission's voice was slightly squeaky. Carth was sure there'd be complaining about how she was a big girl and could run by herself, but for the moment he was glad she wasn't doing it now.

One-hundred twenty-five meters. The bikes were upon them, and only Carth's familiarity with the sound of blaster-fire allowed him to distinguish it from the roar of the engines. That and he could see the red bolts striking at the walls. Normally firing while moving was a sure way to avoid actually hitting what you were aiming at, but in the narrow confines of the Lower City the odds of being shot were decent if whoever was behind them could shoot straight.

Carth risked a quick look behind himself – a stupid thing to do but the ground was uncluttered and he had one hand out, nearly touching Sphene's back in that arrested impulse to push her ahead so he wouldn't crash into her – to get an idea of who and how many were behind them.

He didn't recognize the gang symbols painted on the bikes. Five bikes total, two rodians, a twi'lek, a human, and an iridonian. More than Carth would have wanted to deal with if they'd been on foot, let alone with the relative advantage of a bike.

Sphene looked back and reached into one of her pockets. Carth grabbed her braid – he wasn't sure which grenade she was reaching for but this wasn't the best time for it – and she stopped.

One-hundred fifty meters. Nine way cross.

"Right third up!" Mission said. Zaalbar was in the lead, with Sphene in the middle and nearly shoulder to shoulder with the wall while Carth kept her blind side left and behind her.

The swoop gang following them were clustered close together. Taking out the one in front – one of the rodians – would crash others behind it. Slow them down if nothing else. They weren't going to make it to the cover Mission had spoken of.

As they turned made it around the bend, Carth let go of Sphene's braid and pulled his blaster. One, two, three meters. Sphene, Zaalbar, and Mission were far enough ahead of him. If he waited any longer – if the bikes got any closer – the crash would catch them all.

Could only one of them rescue Bastila?

'_Why don't you trust me, Carth?_'

'_I owe you one.'_

'_Because I want to trust you.'_

Carth stopped and turned just as the first bike came around the bend. The Iridonian. fifteen meters. Carth knelt, to steady himself, aimed, and fired. The Iridonian jerked back, a neat hole in the center of his forehead and the back of his head sprayed out in a mess of gray and yellow. The jerk reaction caused him to pull back on the handles before he fell off the bike completely. The nose of the swoop bike went straight up. Carth had expected the bike to swerve into one of the walls, but that worked just as well. The others behind it – just making the turn and seeing too late what had happened – collided with the wild swoop bike. The momentum of the bikes carried them forward, their metal hulls showering sparks against the floor and walls.

Someone was screaming his name.

Darkness.

0000

There were no more questions. He was ok with that. There were things he'd yet to do. He was not ok with that. But there was nothing all around, and the horizon was a hazy ring of red. He didn't know if any direction would work better than the others.

'_You stupid son of a bitch. I won't let you go.'_

0000

**Authors Notes**

There are a lot of comments about the brevity of the chapters. So, question to you all, dear readers: would you prefer longer chapters but with a longer waiting time between them, (say, every ten to fourteen days instead of every seven-eight), or to keep with the current setup?


	19. Taris Part 17

**Taris – Part 17. Mission.**

Not that the sound of blaster fire was unusual – they'd been running from it for nearly a minute – but the screech of metal-on-metal, and the _crunch_ had Mission squirming in Zaalbar's hold so she could look over his shoulder to see what had just happened. Apparently one of the riders had lost control of his bike but-

"Big Z! Stop! Sphene's turned around!" It was true – Sphene _had_ turned around and was running towards the crash – and those words were the fastest way to get Zaalbar to stop. Lifedebt and all.

Where was Carth?

Zaalbar stumbled to a stop, looking over his shoulder to see for himself that yes, his lifedebt was doing something stupid. Zaalbar turned around and ran back after Sphene.

Where was Carth? All Mission could see was the pile of crashed bikes, and the smoke that was leaking from them made her eyes water and her nose itch. The internal combustion engine on at least one of them must have taken some serious damage for it to be doing that.

"Put me down Big Z, I can walk!" Mission pulled the neck of her shirt over her nose and mouth to try and filter the smoke. Her knees wobbled a little when Zaalbar put her down, but she didn't land on her butt and managed to trot the rest of the way, behind Zaalbar.

The only noise was the creak of the bikes as the wreck settled. Sphene was silent as she stared at the pile.

_(her eyes had gone __huge__, the whites showing and skin pale and sweating and shaking just a little bit, especially her hands)_

There was no sign of Carth. Only the pile of bikes and Carth couldn't be in there somewhere he'd been _right behind them_ not too long ago she'd just met Carth he was a good guy and too many people were dieing-

"[Sphene? What would you have us do?]"

Zaalbar's words seemed to snap Sphene out of her trance and she pulled herself up 'on' to one of the bikes and leaned over it, coughing. It was one closest to the wall. After a moment, she stuffed her braid into the back of her vest and grabbed a hold of one of the twisted bits of metal that had once been the nose. "Help me get 'em out."

Mission almost protested – what were they going to do with Carth's body? There wasn't time for rites or anything like there had been for Trish – before Mission realized that Sphene was ordering this because Sphene thought Carth was still alive.

"He's ok?" Mission went to help, but it was hard to find somewhere to push or pull that wasn't sharp metal. Mission eventually settled for squirming between the bike and the wall – as much as she could – and pushing against what remained of the nose with her feet. Her boots could protect her feet much better than her gloves could protect her hands. She could feel the ambient heat of the bikes, though she couldn't see any open flame just yet.

But that smoke had to be coming from somewhere.

"He's smashed between the wall and a bike. I wouldn' call that 'ok.'" Sphene grunted as she pulled. Zaalbar had taken a position next to Sphene and grabbed part of the bike and _finally_ it moved. A little. The bikes coughed up more smoke and groaned. "All at once! Three, two, now!"

The bike moved with a protesting screech, jostling the pile and for a moment Mission thought the entire thing would come down on her. They hadn't been able to move the bike much – no more than a foot, maybe. But it was enough because, "I can see him! Carth! Carth!" Mission called.

But he didn't move. Carth remained slumped over – to his left, away from Mission – and didn't respond. Blood flowed down his face

_(skin split open from hairline to jaw like a fruit that'd been half peeled)_

and his right shoulder was… Mission couldn't even make out what exactly happened there. Just a lot of blood and torn clothes and space humans had red blood and it was one of the grossest things ever but they had to get him out.

"Sphene, he's hurt real bad…" Mission couldn't keep the whine from her voice.

"I know. Move it kid, I'm gonna check him." Sphene shouldered past Mission and knelt next to Carth. "Ya know of any docs nearby?"

"Not any good ones! Dr. Solus is the best in the Lower City but it'd take half a day to get to him."

"Fuck." Sphene ripped open the jacket and undershirt around Carth's injured shoulder, inspecting it with her fingertips before checking the back of his neck with her hands. "Next best option?"

"The Beks have kolto tanks at their base, but I'm not sure if they'd let Carth use it…" With Carth in this condition, Sphene would be in a bad position to bargain with Gadon. Once Mission would have been confident that Gadon would have been lenient, just for her, but after that 'talk' about how Mission had lead Sith into the base…

"Not gonna let 'em die." Sphene muttered. Sphene was half in Carth's lap as she got her hands between Carth and his pack in what looked like an awkward hug. After a moment she said, "Zaalbar, help me move 'em. I don' think his spine or neck's hurt, but be careful."

"[Of course.]"

Sphene wiggled even further back and leaned Carth against herself before folding his arms on his chest. "Get his legs, Zaalbar. I've got 'em from back here."

"Um, anything I can do?" Mission felt excessive. Zaalbar had practically carried her most of the way, and now Carth was down and she couldn't _do_ anything.

"Keep watch Mission. Don' want nobody sneakin' up on us."

That didn't seem like much, but Mission bit her lip and nodded, and tried to 'keep watch' instead of staring. Except the halls seemed to be empty so there wasn't much to look at and Mission got the feeling Sphene had just told her that in order to placate her.

_(It was hard not to stare at the wreckage. Carth wasn't the only one in there and she could see green and purple oozing wetly from between pieces of metal. A leg stuck out from the very bottom and someone was moaning-)_

Big Z had trouble reaching Carth between the narrow confines of the bike and the wall. But after a moment – Mission's view was obstructed – he seemed to get ahold of Carth's legs and helped Sphene maneuver Carth out.

"Careful big guy, didn' get to check his legs yet. Not sure how bad up he is down there."

"[I am trying.]"

"Not saying ya ain't-" Sphene coughed roughly from the smoke. "Damn. Lets make this fast then. Here's fine, Zaalbar."

They laid Carth down on the ground and there was so much blood. Sphene eventually got Carth's pack and vibroblades off. Zaalbar backed up as Sphene pulled out a medpack, ripped it open with her teeth, making sure none of the contents – standard kolto soaked bandages, a tiny bottle of antiseptic, and need-plus-thread combination – fell to the ground. "How close are we to the Bek base, Mission?"

"An hour, maybe. If we run." Mission swallowed nervously. That was also if they didn't run into any more Asps, or rakghouls, or just regular muggers. And that was only _getting_ there, nevermind convincing the Beks to put Carth in a kolto tank-

"Mission, c'mere. How steady are yer hands?"

Mission wasn't sure how steady she'd be when dealing with so much blood. It wasn't as bad as with Trish, but Carth was still _alive_ and she could mess this up. "Um, depends. What do you need me to do?"

Sphene wrinkled her nose. "Stitch him up some. I'll guide ya, don't ya worry bout that but-" Sphene held her hands up, palm out and Mission realized that a lot of the blood on Sphene's hands and arms wasn't just Carth's. Sphene hadn't found a safe place to grab the swoop bike, and long gashes marred the palms of her hands. "Well."

She'd pulled anyway. Sphene had grabbed jagged burning metal and pulled anyway.

"I'm not sure-"

"Ain't hard at all. He ain't conscious so he ain't thrashin' about any. You ever stitch up some clothes? It's kinda like that. Skin's tougher than ya'd think."

"I've never sewn anything in my life!"

"Well, it ain't that hard. Ya got a better shot of keeping a hold of the needle than I do anyway." Mission hesitated, Sphene's eyes narrowed.

(_like Mission had messed up aligning the power couplings had had been shocked_)

"Girl, if Carth bleeds out cause ya got squeamish, I will show ya a trick I learned on Nar-Shaddaa that'll involve ya, a schutta, a knife, and some morphine. The morphine bein' for the schutta. _Now get yer ass over here_!"

Before she'd had enough time to properly process what Sphene had just said, Mission 'got her ass over there' and had the tiny needle and thread in her hands as Sphene cracked open the bottle of antiseptic.

"Worst part's infection, kolto don' take care of that – girl ya ain't gonna get a good angle over there sit next to me, Zaalbar, keep watch-" Mission really didn't want to sit next to Sphene, not with the way Sphene's eyes were narrowed and that Sphene had gone from veiled threats to open ones. Because Mission would be within arms reach if something went wrong and Zaalbar would take Sphene's side if ordered (lifedebt).

But Mission did it, and made sure to keep her makeshift mask over her nose and mouth for the smoke. Poor Zaalbar, he didn't have anything like that-

"Pay attention!"

Mission nearly dropped the needle. "I am!" She squeaked. Oh no, that was bad. _Never_ show fear. Fear was just inviting the sharks to come in.

Sphene took a deep breath. "Ok. It's ok." Sphene coughed and pulled her own shirt collar over her mouth. "It's not hard, really. But ya got better hands than me right now is all. Hm'kay? I ain't gonna bite ya. Promise." Mission wasn't so sure about that, but Sphene seemed calmer. "Now listen, this'll be important no matter what. Ya always clean the wound out first. Make sure nothin's stuck in there an' then make with the disinfectant…"

With Sphene's guidance, Mission closed up Carth's shoulder, her hands only shook a little but she didn't loose her grip on the needle because of all the blood. Once the wounds were wrapped in the kolto-soaked bandages, Zaalbar picked up Carth, and they all but ran to the Bek base. Sphene was never far from Zaalbar, and she often touched Carth's hands or his head along the way.

It took that long, for Mission to detangle herself from fight-and-flight and the shock of Carth's injury, to realize that Sphene was scared.

0000

"By the Maker's holy hand grenades, Mission!" Lorek was on guard duty (he was never a very smart rodian but loyal as a kath hound) and he gaped at the procession Mission lead. Zaalbar was carrying the still unconscious Carth – at least Carth's headwound seemed to have stopped bleeding – and everyone was splattered in blood (mostly Carth's) and smudged with ash.

Everyone showed up at the Bek's door at some point, covered in blood, so maybe it was a rite of passage or something. But Mission certainly didn't feel any different about it. Mostly she just felt stimmed up.

"I know I know! Look, Carth needs a tank _bad_, or at least we need another medpack and someplace to put him-"

"Right right I see that get in already I'll let Sean know you're coming," Lorek paused, raising his eyebrows at Mission when he took a closer look at Sphene.

Mission nodded and Lorek opened the doors to let them in, and from there it was a straight shot to the med-quarters.

Sean was waiting for them,

_(Sean was __huge__ in a way humans usually aren't, shorter than most wookies by only a few inches and only slightly less hairy, and deadly serious except the way he smiles sometimes makes Mission want to hug him or shelter under him even though she's __not a kid__)_

with one of the rolling beds ready by the door. "About time! Fuzzy, just put him down here." Zaalbar growled warningly when Sean reached for Carth, Sean scowled at him. "Don't you growl at me and damnit woman, I'm not about to slit your man's throat, so stop glaring like that! You want him breathing or what?"

Sphene bit her lip then nodded to Zaalbar, who put Carth down on the bed.

"What happened? Zira!" Sean called to his assistant, "Stop making goo goo eyes at Scar, it's his own damn fault he got shocked. Stop coddling him and get the cleaner!"

Sphene shadowed Sean as Sean pushed Carth to the far eastern wall of the medward, almost flush against the wall beneath the shelves.

_(Sphene's fingers kept twitching – she wanted to keep her hands on her blasters – but Carth's vibroblades keetp tangling her legs. Not a lot, but enough to make her stumble a little. Sean didn't look at her at all, as if having a nervous scoundrel nearby wasn't noteworthy.)_

Mission kept a good few feet away though, not wanting to get in the way, and not wanting to get too close to any of the instruments Sean kept in the medbay. Mission never liked the medbay – it was practically pre-hyperdrive, with the kolto tanks the most advanced (and most expensive) equipment there. There wasn't a med-droid in sight, though there were plenty of knives, saws, needles, and things Mission didn't even have names for. All wrapped up and neatly sanitized (presumably) but between Sean and Zira the place still reeked of blood and disinfectant. The green glow cast by the kolto tanks didn't help with the ambience any, nor did the missing ceiling panels or blood stains on the floor.

"He got hit with a bunch of swoopbikes is what happened. Mission got him closed up but he's lost a lot of blood and I got no idea what his insides are like-"

"Calm down, if he hasn't died yet he's not likely to in the next five minutes, on top of all that." Sean held out one hand to keep Sphene back before taking the bottle of 'cleaner' from Zira

_(the sole Cathar Mission had any knowledge of in all of Taris, though she'd heard there were small enclaves on them elsewhere)_

and dousing Carth with it. With his free hand, Sean began checking Carth's head, digging his fingers into Carth's hair and around the back of Carth's head, much like Sphene had done in the alley. The blood and the cleaner mixed together into a somewhat more diluted pinkish mess that ran off the edge of the bed, onto the floor, and down one of the metal grates that were carved out of the concrete. Carth was like one more bloodstain on top of a bunch of other-

"Good work with the stitching, Mission. Little amateurish but not bad. Zira! Stop standing there and get the scanner. You brain damaged, child?"

Zira bared her teeth at Sean before pulling an _enormous_ machine into place. It moved by rolling from a complicated suspension system from the ceiling, and its creaking did not inspire Mission with confidence.

"… Sphene showed me what to do." Mission said quietly. She wasn't sure if she was just tired, or if it was the smell, but she was feeling a little lightheaded.

"I already checked his head and neck. He's fine there-" Sphene was trying to push in closer again, the tail of her braid snapping almost like lekku tips.

"Damnit woman, I'm the doctor here aren't I? Stay the hell out of my- what the hell?" Sean stopped checking Carth's neck and peered at his forehead, then began unwrapping the bandages around Carth's shoulder.

"What? What is it?"

"Good news is I don't think he's gonna need the tank. Maybe a kolto drip to speed things up a bit. How long ago was he hit by that bike?"

"Not even an hour-"

Sean interrupted Sphene, "If he got those an hour ago then I'm the son of a nerfherder."

"No, really. I was right there when it happened!" Mission said. "He was all squished up between a wall and a bunch of bikes! Sphene cut her hands up and everything getting him out."

Sean was quiet for a moment. "Both of you, look at this." Sean waved Mission and Sphene over, and pointed to Carth's forehead. A thin line of scar tissue had formed at the very ends. "If you all hadn't come in covered in all that blood, I'd have guessed he'd gotten these a week ago. What happened?"

"I… I don't know. He was a lot worse earlier-" Mission and Sphene started, the sound of the scanner warming up startling them both. After a moment, bright blue grid lines appeared on Carth's body, the lines moving about to make the boxes bigger, smaller, and occasionally creating cross-sections.

"There was a lot of blood." After a moment – Sean watching them expectantly - Sphene added, "Maybe he's got implants he didn't mention? I've heard some things about implants that can heal you up fine-"

"Zira?' Sean looked over to Zira, who was frowning at a small display on the wall.

"The scan's not picking up anything like that." Zira shrugged.

"Maybe he was already hurt? Before you guys got here?" Mission suggested.

"I've seen him without his shirt on before. And he didn't get hit any during the fight with the Vulcars or the Sith. He was fine. Blaster or grenade would've looked different anyway."

"Wait, when'd you see Carth without his-"

"Not the point Mission."

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Sean watched them both, and the way he was scowling told Mission plenty about his thoughts: he was scoundrel enough to smell trouble and wonder whether or not this was something he had to deal with.

Sphene finally shrugged. "Well, we're sure as hell not going to be figuring this out. So long as he hasn't suddenly contacted something contagious, all the better. He'll be back up faster, we can ask him when he's conscious. Zaalbar, keep an eye on Carth. Anyone besides… sorry doc, what's your name?"

"Sean."

"Anyone besides Sean gets within ten feet of him gets their arms ripped off, you got me?"

"[I understand.]"

"Um, isn't that a little harsh?"

"Mission, don't think I haven't noticed how people look at me. I'm not leaving Carth by himself. Now, how exactly do I go about talking to Gadon in these parts?"

"Um, you gotta go through Zaedra first, usually, since he doesn't know you but you're with me so… uh, we knock. If he's not busy then he'll talk to us then. He said he wanted to talk to you after all."

"Ok. Lets make this fast. Zaalbar, we should be back shortly – no more than two standard hours. We'll figure out what's going on then."

Something about all this struck Mission as a little strange. Ok, sure she was probably going to be taking orders from Sphene eventually because of Zaalbar's lifedebt but-

Up until that point, Carth had been calling the shots. Without Carth that left Sphene in charge.

_(If anyone else noticed, once the blood had been washed away, that the deep gashes on Sphene's hands were closing like the one's on Carth were, they didn't say.)_

0000

Zeke and Riordan – they were on guard for Gadon's office that day - stared openly at Sphene. Mission bristled at them, Sphene only sighed and crossed her arms.

Ok, so the blood hadn't cleaned off all _that_ well. But still.

"I'm here to see Gadon. I got a message says he wants to talk to me. Mission vouches I'm clean."

"… this right Mission?" Zeke asked, not bothering to hide his suspicion.

"She's honest. You think I don't know what I'm doing here? Besides, you know Zaedra – if Sphene even twitches suspicious she'll shoot."

"… your funeral kid." Zeke hit the buzzer. "Boss! Mission here with a woman, says Gadon asked for them. Woman's got yellow eyes. That sound right?"

Zaedra's voice was slightly distorted over the com. "Against my better judgment. Send them in."

As was customary, Zaedra had her blaster out and aimed at them when the doors opened. Sphene jerked back with an exclamation in a language Mission didn't recognize.

"It's ok! Zaedra does that. Hi Zaedra! This is Sphene. Talked about her last time, remember?"

"Zaedra," Gadon said from behind her. "Let them in. This is a business dealing, not a shake down."

"Gadon, you remember how I promised to never make any cracks about you being blind? You're _really_ pushing my self control on that front."

"It's alright Zaedra. I'm not _completely_ helpless."

Mission grinned at the jab. Just because Gadon couldn't _see_ didn't mean he couldn't kick everyone's butt. He hadn't kept his position as the leader of the Beks by sheer loyalty alone.

"So, you've got a job for me?" Sphene's eyes were darting between Mission and the blaster Zaedra had yet to put down. It was the 'if this crazy schutta kills me I am going to murder you' look.

"Yes. Zaedra, put that away."

"She could be a Sith spy, Gadon!"

Gadon snorted. "The Sith would be down here trying to kill us all if they thought we have – or know – anything useful. Stand down, Zaedra."

"Yeah! Besides, if you think I'm gonna let you mess with my _contract_, you got another thing coming!" They had to know that. Sphene was part of Mission's contract. Not the exact _letter_ of her contract – which strictly speaking, was held by Carth – but Sphene was under its umbrella, and if Mission was going to be working with her in the future, Sphene needed to know Mission would back her up.

And Gadon and Zaedra needed to know Mission was fulfilling certain obligations.

After a moment, Zaedra reholstered her blasters.

_(Sphene kept her hands on her own blasters, her twitching fingers betraying her nerves as much as serving as a warning.)_

"Well, Gadon? Mission says you keep your contracts and you got something about freeing slaves?"

Gadon nodded. "I think we can work out an arrangement. Very simple. The Hidden Beks don't deal in slavery. So if we win the swoop race, we turn over a certain Republic Officer to you, in return for services rendered."

Mission didn't like the sound of that. It was also an old trick – to try and bait the unweary into making a commitment with the reward before the price was brought up. It was also a painfully obvious ploy. One Gadon probably knew Sphene would see through. What was he getting at?

Sphene was quiet for a moment. "The services being?"

"Retrieval of something Brejik – the Black Vulcars – stole from us. A prototype swoop accelerator we'll need for the upcoming races."

"Any idea where I'd find it?"

"Our informants tell us the Vulcar's took it to their garage to incorporate it into one of their own bikes."

"That's in their main base." Mission added, feeling her lower intestine trying to join her toes on the floor. That was a high price to ask.

"Yes. And I hear you managed to get the access codes to one of their back entrances, Mission." Gadon said mildly.

Mission ducked her head. She'd meant to bring that up sooner – bragging rights – but things had been so busy lately. "Yessir."

Sphene rocked back on her heels. "That ain't a flexible arrangement, Gadon."

"You don't exactly have room to negotiate, if you are who I think you are." Gadon said.

"I ain't talking about negotiating. I'm talking about getting what we both really want. You want to win the race and stay top dog. Me and mine want the officer. If we don't get the accelerator, nobody gets anything. So I'm saying this happens: we'll work on getting the accelerator, but if we don't, we'll sabotage the Vulcars, Asps, whoever the hell, to keep you on top." Sphene grinned. "I'm _very _good at sabotage. And if the Beks win, we get the officer."

It was ok for Mission to ask favors of Gadon. Gadon had been good to Griff, and had continued to be good to Mission after her brother was gone. But only Mission dared make requests and expect to get anything, and Zaedra was the only person in Bek territory who'd contradict, question, or challenge Gadon.

Sphene had just – underhandedly – called Gadon a fool for offering her those terms and had presented terms of her own. Not exactly what Mission considered a good bargaining practice.

Zaedra was just reaching for her blaster again when Gadon said, "Wait, Zaedra." He leaned forward on his desk,

_(resting the weight of his shoulders on his elbows, Gadon was interested)_

"Miss Sphene, I'm afraid that won't work. Such flexible conditions would allow you to claim nearly _any_ misfortune as your own doing. And to be honest, you don't have much room for negotiation in this matter."

"Actually, the Asps my group killed an hour ago, and the fact that you're trying to hire us out instead of sending your own in says different. You don't have enough people, so you're trying to call outsiders in who'll take something you guys won't take anyway. You aren't going to loose anything by doing it our way Gadon." Sphene smiled, but it was hard and her eyes were narrowed. "Besides, I have a rep to keep. I'm not jeopardizing that. And if this works out, it'll make both of us look very nice later on."

Mission couldn't read Gadon's face very well, but she knew enough about him and his policy in running the Beks to have an idea of what he was thinking: the Bek's policy of non-slaver-trading was a combination of how hard sentient traffic was, combined with the fact that more people were willing to live – even move into – Bek territory due to the assurance that they, their families, or their friends weren't suddenly going to be enslaved for debts, or even on whim. The Asps had a similar practice for similar reasons. The Vulcars however, needed the bulk income immediately more than the long term but slower 'rent' money brought in by having a thriving population within their borders.

Turning over Bastila to her people would prove a boost in that direction in a number of ways: the Beks were still upholding their traditions in hard times, they still kept their contracts along with the possibility that rescue from other gangs who had enslaved relatives was a possibility. (Not a promise, but a possibility.) Which meant more residents. And it showed that the Beks weren't in such a desperate condition.

What it really came down to was how desperate the short term situation was. If Gadon didn't need help _now_, as Sphene thought, then-

"Very well. Agreed."

Sphene grinned, then laughed and relaxed her hold on her blasters. "Done and done!"

0000

"You gotta be kidding!" Mission stared at Sphene, as Sphene finished wrapping her hands with kolto-bandages. The medward had become their unofficial 'lair' for the time being. Sphene had perched on one of the beds near him, her feet swinging idly while Zaalbar kept his vigil standing and Mission paced between them.

Mission had known that with Carth down, their forces would be split, but she'd thought it would be an even split. Mission hadn't thought Sphene would want to go to the Undercity alone.

"You and Zaalbar are a team." Sphene said calmly,

(_or was that 'tiredly'? she was getting that sallow complexion she'd had when she'd tired out before rescuing Zaalbar)_

"And this way if things go bad we won't have too many losses. Carth's gonna need you both to get Bastila if I fail."

"You don't know the sewers that well! Not to mention the rakghouls! You could be lost for days – forever!"

"Mission, _you can't come with me_. Zaalbar needs to guard Carth, and if I don't come back, Carth is going to need a guide. He won't understand a word Zaalbar says. He's gonna need _you_. I've been wandering in and out of strange places all my life, Mission. I can find my way."

"Don't you care that Carth's laying up because he tried to save us? What do I tell him if he wakes up and you're not here?" Mission rubbed her hands together in an anxious habit she couldn't quite control. What _would_ she tell Carth? That Sphene was dead? That she was lost? Would Carth even want to look for Sphene if it meant loosing Bastila? "There's other ways to do this, you argued with Gadon to get them-"

"[Because if Sphene does not return, it will be up to us to fulfill the bargain. You often say others treat you as a child, but being an adult means doing things you do not like without complaint. Be honored that she is giving us this responsibility, Mission.]"

"As a last resort! As 'plan B' in case she comes up dead!" Why didn't they see how wrong this was? Mission turned to Zaalbar, her lekku swinging out with the movement. Why was he going along with this? Why wasn't he doing something? They'd almost lost Carth! "Big Z! She's your lifedebt isn't she? That means protecting her right?"

"[It is a bond of loyalty.]"

"So why-"

"Mission. If you're going with us when we leave Taris, you're gonna have to learn to trust that I know what the hell I'm doing."

_(translation: Sphene is boss)_

"This ain't up for argument. You're staying here with Carth and Zaalbar. I'll be going to the Vulcar base alone."

Mission thought about arguing Sphene into submission

(_Sphene looked so tired_)

but the snap in her voice didn't indicate Sphene got any more tractable with exhaustion. And Mission still wasn't sure how genuine any threats Sphene made were.

"But what about your hands?" Mission asked, trying to feign 'subdued' instead of doing 'sulky.' Mission figured she succeeded because Sphene didn't scowl or look suspicious.

Instead Sphene flexed her fingers experimentally. "It's fine. Now come here, Mission. I'm going to need the details."

"Um, there's a rancor involved…"

0000

**Author's Notes**

So we're going with the longer wait time in return for longer chapters. Think this works out nicely, as it also gives more time to allow for proofreading.

Obligatory begging for reviews [here].


	20. Author's Announcement, 18 in progress

**Author's Announcement**

Hello, my faithful readers! No, this isn't a discontinuation announcement, though there are a few things that need to be said:

1. Taris Part 18 is still in the works. Real Life + a troublesome short story (say 'hi' to Atton and the Exile folks) have delayed it.

2. The Prologue + Taris 1-3 are going to get extensive revisions. Especially Taris Part 1. Expect such additions as, "The Endar Spire's being blown up!" "Carth's first few days on Taris." and, "So this is what a Sith Party looks like." This is also to address some timing and characterization inconsistencies.

3. Additional chapters are going to be revised, though not _as_ heavily. Some will be combined.

4. The old versions of all works will be hosted on deviantart. Revisions will begin to take place after Taris Part 18 is up.

For the curious, further details about my recent activities and writing can be found at my deviantart profile/journal. Force Be With You.


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